


Reading I'm Still Up and Driving

by CheekyChick1only



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Characters Reading Fanfiction, F/M, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyChick1only/pseuds/CheekyChick1only
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The characters from Teen Wolf read I'm Still Up and Driving</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'm Still Up and Driving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006071) by [KouriArashi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/pseuds/KouriArashi). 



Stiles was driving home trying not to think about what would happen when he arrived. Things had not been the same between him and his father since the whole “kidnapping Jackson” thing. Well, he thought, to be fair, things hadn’t been the same since Scott had turned. Stiles was just turning into his driveway when a bright white light exploded in front of him. 

“What the he—” he shouted and jerked the wheel only to abruptly find himself standing in the middle of a strange room that didn’t have any other furniture than a collection of couches and armchairs. Stile spun around to try and see what was going on when he saw that he wasn’t alone. “Scott!”

Scott whirled around and sagged in relief to see his friend. Stiles felt rush of affection for his friend which abruptly faded away when Scott caught sight of Allison, who had just appeared along with what looked to be at least half of Beacon Hills, and lost all in interest in his supposed best friend. Stiles couldn’t help the twinge of hurt at being brushed off so easily but the hurt was numbed by the fact that he was by now all too used to his friend blowing him off.

“Stiles!”

Stiles jumped at the sudden exclamation of his name and turned around to see his dad looking for him. Even from across the room Stiles could tell that his dad had been drinking. Stiles felt the guilty lump in his throat tighten and he felt the inexplicable urge to hide away. Almost the second the thought crossed his mind Stiles noticed that one of the couches was in front of a crawl space. In the confusion of more and more people suddenly appearing in the room Stiles bolted towards the crawl space and climbed inside. He left the sliding door ajar enough to listen to the growing confusion and felt the tightness in his chest ease at being away from the crowd of people. More and more Stiles felt it was too hard to be around groups of people who walked around with no idea of the world they lived in. Who couldn’t feel what Jackson had done to him. It was too hard to pretend to be the same person he had been before that party.

The confusion going on in the room seemed to be escalating with no end in sight when suddenly there was a loud crack like a sheet of glass breaking against the ground and a book fell from the ceiling landing on a coffee table that nobody could recall seeing before that exact moment. The thump of the book landing silenced every sound in the room and everyone turned to stare at the table. It was lucky everyone’s attention focused on the table because otherwise the piece of paper that magically appeared out of nowhere and floated gently to the ground would have been completely overlooked. Everyone stared blankly at the table before Chris Argent seemed to have had enough and stormed forward to read the note aloud.

_“Greetings Argents, Hales, Stilinki’s, McCalls, and assorted teenagers, I have gathered you all here today to read the story of a special young man. Secrets have been kept in Beacon Hills for far too long and now I am forcing them out into the open. I know this is not what any of you wanted and it may seem to only make things worse, but I promise this is for the best. It is not only the secrets of the supernatural that I will unveil, however, but also secrets and lies surrounding the people in this town. As you may have noticed there is no way out of this room. That is because no one will leave until this story has been read in its entirety. This story will focus on Stiles Stilinski and the struggles he has been dealing with since Winter Break.”_

There was an immediate uproar at this. “Why the hell should I listen to a story about Stilinski?” seemed to be the predominate objection but Danny was more surprised by the fact that Jackson had not been among the ones to say anything. In fact, now that he was looking, Jackson looked rather pale and almost, dare he say it, afraid. What was wrong with his friend? “You ok, man?”

Jackson jerked, startled. “I’m fine,” he said, clearly rattled.

Before Danny could ask again another note fell from the ceiling. Chris picked it up and read _“I’d ask you all to contain yourselves and not try and kill Jackson, but I really don’t particularly like the guy so have at!”_

Chris, along with the majority of the spectators turned to look at Jackson who now looked absolutely terrified. 

“Jackson?” Danny asked, now very worried.

Jackson shook his head and started to back away when a cage suddenly materialized around him. “Hey,” he shouted, incensed. “What’s the big idea?”

Almost as if in response to his question another note appeared. 

_“Many of you are unaware of the various supernatural going ons in Beacon Hills and to understand this story you will need this information. Werewolves are real, Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd and Isaac Lahey are all werewolves. Jackson tried to become a werewolf but became something called a Kanima instead. Think 6-foot tall murder lizard. The Kanima is basically nothing more than a puppet. Jackson is being used to kill people by Matt Daehler, blah blah he drowned when he was little blah blah, super traumatized and now he’s killing everyone he thinks is responsible.”_

At this news everyone started looking around for Matt who was conspicuously absent.

_“Yeah, Matt isn’t really the focus here. See this story takes place in the future, it would have really began after Stiles got home tonight when he decided to finally come clean with his dad. “_

The Sheriff looked up at this point, shocked that he would finally have the answers he so desired from his son only for it to be snatched away by…whatever this was. He didn’t believe for a second the ridiculous garbage that was being spouted off about werewolves. That sounded like the kind of thing he heard teens telling to try and get out of trouble. Speaking of teens in trouble, where in the hell was his son?

_“Matt isn’t important because he dies soon anyway.”_

Many people jerked at that. Someone they knew dying was a major blow to them, even though most really had no clue who the boy was, and the letter sounded so…unfeeling. It was disconcerting to realize they were all trapped somewhere by someone or something that cared so little about the sanctity of life.

_“Anyway the story starts today, major information you will need: at the rave tonight Victoria Argent tried to kill Scott slowly and torturously because she found out he’s having sex with Allison—”_

Chris didn’t know whether or not he was angry more with Scott for defiling his baby girl or his wife for breaking the Code. Before he had a chance to decide on either Allison, in a storm of fury, looks around for her mother and, not finding her, demands to talk to her mother right now.

_“Yeah that really isn’t all that important either she dies soon too. When Derek went to rescue Scott he had to fight her off and he accidentally bit her. Being a hunter at her core, Victoria killed herself before she could change into a werewolf.”_

Chris and Allison both looked absolutely gutted at this, both convinced that this was true, not merely some elaborate prank. Allison couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal that shot through her at the realization that her mother would rather leave her than stay with her as a werewolf. How could her mother do that to her?

_“Gerard is an evil son-of-a-bitch, not that that should be surprising to anyone. He murders Matt in order to take control of the Kanima all as part of his master plan to force Derek to turn him into a werewolf. The dude had cancer and is dying and apparently he is not nearly as prejudiced as the rest of his family and is willing to do anything, even become a werewolf, in order to live a bit longer. Scott decides to be an absolute dick and comes up with this plan where he forces Derek to bite Gerard but Scott has been feeding Gerard mountain ash so it fails and Gerard seemingly dies.”_

Everyone stared at Scott in shock that he could do something so cold. Derek in particular looks wounded knowing that Scott would manipulate him like that. Scott looked equally as shocked that he had done this and it showed.

_“Well I think that is all the backstory you need. You should know that Stiles is around but he’s hiding and I must ask you not to go looking for him; he’ll come out when he’s ready. Enjoy!”_

Everyone looked around at one another, each reluctant to be the one to start. Chris Argent rolled his eyes and picked up the pick. “I’ll start, shall I?” he said dryly.

**The Stilinski house is dark and silent as Stiles lets himself in, which is no surprise, given the hour. By the time they had been sure that Scott was recovering from whatever it was Victoria Argent had done to him, they had ducked all the cops crawling around the murder scene, and left the rave, it had been nearly one o’clock in the morning.**

The Sheriff sighs, exasperated. Was it too much to ask that his son not need to duck cops? He couldn’t be too upset, though he thought, at least in this case his son had just been trying to help his friend who had been attacked by his girlfriend’s mother. He frowned. He would need to have a ‘talk’ with Victoria Argent.

**Stiles is exhausted. He’s had worse days lately, but not many.**

What did that mean, everyone wondered. How can a teenager have and worse days than someone trying to slowly murder his best friend?

**Despite the hour, there’s a small light on in the dining room. Stiles goes in to see his father sitting there with a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, along with a photo album. He swallows and looks away. “Hey, uh . . . hey, Dad,” he says, feeling things out, wondering how much his father has had to drink. When his father doesn’t reply, he says, “Look, uh . . . I really am sorry. About everything. But the police van thing most of all. It, uh, it seemed like a fun idea at the time.”**

**“Yeah,” is all his father says in reply, which is a lot like a knife to the gut.**

The Sheriff sighed. He was glad that Stiles seemed to be taking the situation seriously, but at the same time he hated that he was making his son feel worse.

Scott shifted guiltily in his seat. Besides the grounding his mom had pretty much let the whole Jackson thing go. He hadn’t even considered how things had been going with Stiles, especially considering how Stiles’ dad had gotten suspended for it. Some friend he was.

**Stiles slowly pulls out the chair across from him and sit down. There’s so much going on, and he knows that he should tell his father, but he’s petrified, paralyzed by the idea of the knowledge getting him killed.**

“Killed?” The Sheriff said, a little incredulous. What the hell was Stiles involved in? The voice could not possibly be telling the truth about werewolves being real…right?

**Of course, given everything that’s happening, it seems just as likely that ignorance could get him killed. Either way, Stiles foresees a long future of bitter regret.**

Stiles snorted quietly, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

**But it isn’t just the supernatural stuff he needs to tell his father about. It’s Jackson.**

What? Seemed to be the prevailing thought on everyone’s mind. Danny glanced over towards his friend, concerned with how pale he seemed to be getting.

_**/ “What are you doing at my girl’s party, Stilinski? You should know better than to show your face here.” /**_

Lydia frowned, had Stiles been to a party of hers that Jackson had been too? And Jackson always stayed right by her all night, when would he have had time to even talk to Stiles? But, she thought, over the Winter break hadn’t he disappeared for a half an hour during her party? Sh suddenly had a bad feeling about where this was going. 

**He can recall standing out in the woods with Scott and Allison, outside the police van where they were holding Jackson captive, and saying, “Why don’t we just kill him?”**

“Stiles!” the Sheriff shouted, appalled. Stiles flinched in his hiding place at the disappointment and anger he heard in his father’s voice. 

He was not the only one shocked. Pretty much everyone in the room seemed shocked at the fact that Stiles, goofy, nerdy, Stiles had suggested killing someone. No one seemed to know what to say and Chris Argent, who fully supported such a plan, didn’t allow much time for discussion as he kept reading. 

**He doesn’t think that Scott believed he really meant it, but he did.**

Scott was shocked. He really hadn’t believed Stiles meant it when he had said that. He’d thought his friend was just playing devil’s advocate or something. 

**Because he knows what Jackson is, and it has nothing to do with the failed attempt to turn him into a werewolf. He knows what Jackson really is, and he has for a long time – since the winter before, the night of Lydia’s party, the night he had had too much to drink and Jackson had decided to ‘teach him a lesson’ for the way he always tried to get Lydia’s attention.**

Danny frowned. That sounded like…no. Jackson wouldn’t do that…would he? “Jackson,” he says, far more calm that he feels, “what does that mean?” 

This question caught everyone’s attention and they all turned to the jock in question. Pale and clearly frightened he growled out “Nothing. 

Scott and the Sheriff looked at each other, each trying to determine if the other had any idea where this was going, if Stiles had mentioned whatever this was to them. 

**But nobody listened to him and now Jackson is still out there, still killing people, and apparently under the control of a ghost or zombie, if what he said at the rave was any indication. Stiles wants to care. He does. But he’s so damned tired. And the two inches of whiskey in his father’s glass are killing him.**

The Sheriff flinched. He felt guilty that his drinking was hurting his son. How did I not notice? He berated himself. Of course Stiles, his wonderful son who took care of him after Claudia’s death when he spent all his time at home drunk out of his mind, would have issues when he saw him drinking. Especially when he felt he was the cause of it. I will never drink again, he vowed. Not if this is what it does to my boy. 

**“Look, uhm, I know that we shouldn’t have done it,” Stiles says, fiddling. They had meant to go to his father and explain things, but Jackson had gotten there first, and brought in other adults, and now everything’s messed up and he doesn’t know how to fix it. “Is there something I can do? I mean, I’m sixteen, they shouldn’t hold you responsible for my actions – can I write a letter, pay a fine – if it’ll help to let Jackson press charges, I’ll face up to that.”**

**Because that’s what he wants to do. Spend more time with Jackson. The time alone in the police van with him had been slow, exquisite torture. Even knowing Jackson had been chained up and ostensibly helpless hadn’t made him feel a lot better about it. Even now, days later, he’s still been having nightmares about it. Why did the kanima have to be Jackson, of all people? He could have dealt better with just about anyone in Beacon Hills.**

**_/ “Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you’re always sniffing around after her? Did you think I was just going to let you get away with that? You’re going to regret showing your face here tonight, you jerk-off. I’m going to make you regret it.” /_**

The Sheriff’s brow furrowed, had Jackson attacked Stiles? If so he was going to pistol whip the little bastard for trying to play the victim when his son had been the one to be hurt first. 

Derek frowned. He liked Stiles, lord knows why, but he does. He doesn’t like knowing that Jackson had hurt Stiles in the past, especially knowing that if not for the change going wrong then Derek would have made Jackson even stronger if he ever went after the spastic teen again. 

**“No,” his father says, “I don’t really think that’ll help, son.” He reaches out and takes a sip of the whiskey, rubs a hand over his face. “I appreciate the offer, but no.”**

**“Oh.” Stiles studies his hands. “Okay.”**

**Even if he does explain to his father, he can never explain to Jackson’s parents. Sometimes it seems crazy to him that there’s this entire supernatural world that exists without anybody knowing about it. He wants to write letters to the editor and post videos of kanima-Jackson on the internet and make everyone aware of it. But there’s this deep-seated voice of reason that says that would be an extremely bad idea. Humans are exceptionally bad at facing frightening things. They would go after anyone who they had even a vague reason to suspect was different with pitchforks and torches. It would be the Salem witch trials all over again, only aided by automatic weaponry and instant communication across the globe.**

Chris felt approval for this boy’s and reasoning. Every hunter at some point in their lives became very frustrated with the ignorance of the people around them and few had the plain common sense to see why it was a bad idea to tell the world about the supernatural. If it weren’t for the boy’s close relationship with Scott he would consider trying to recruit him. He would be an excellent hunter. 

**So there’s nothing he can say on that subject that will make it better.**

**But there are other subjects that might. Other reasons, valid reasons, that he might have wanted to make Jackson suffer, that would put his actions in a less ridiculous light. It might ruin his own life, but he could save his father’s, if only he can find a way to explain it to him.**

**_/ “I’ll teach you what it’s like to have someone after you who won’t take no for an answer,” Jackson says, twisting his arm around his back. /_ **

Danny felt himself grow cold. There was no way he was misinterpreting that. “Tell me you didn’t.” He said in a voice that was somehow both pleading and emotionless. The question gained the attention of everyone nearby. What did Danny realize that they hadn’t? 

Danny’s question made the Sheriff suddenly afraid. He knew what that sounded like…but there was no way. Not his son. He’d know if something like that had happened to his baby, wouldn’t he? 

**Stiles shudders a little. “What if I, uhm, what if I talk to Jackson’s parents?”**

**Sheriff Stilinski pours another inch of whiskey into the glass. “Like you talked to them at the station the other day?”**  
**“Shit, I’m sorry, that, that was a mistake, I didn’t mean to – ”**

**“You never mean to,” his father says woodenly. “Jesus, kid. What could have possessed you – out of all the kids at your damned high school, why him? Why the God damned DA’s son?”**

**It’s the perfect opportunity, and Stiles know he won’t get a better one, but the words stick in his throat. “Because he . . .” Say it, he lectures himself, say it, you fucking coward, just man up and say it.**

Chris paused, shaken by what was written next. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and kept going, knowing how much pain Stiles’ father was about to be in. 

**“Because he’s the one who raped me at Lydia’s party last winter.”**

Absolute silence. It was like everyone had frozen in shock. They suddenly understood why the letter had told them that someone was going to want to kill Jackson. 

Danny was the first one to react, he rounded on his former best friend and shouted, “How could you, you bastard!? How could you do that to-to anyone?” 

Lydia was just as angry, “You attacked someone in my house, at my party because he was flirting with me? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Before anyone else could say anything there were two deep reverberating growls and everyone spun around to see a completely wolfed out Scott and Derek, identical looks of fury on their faces. 

There was a bit of a panic as the previously not in-the-know people were confronted with real life werewolves for the first time. Scott lunged forward and tried to attack Jackson but unfortunately the cage was protecting him. Derek snarled at Jackson, he never should had bitten him, it made him sick to his stomach to know that he had helped make a rapist stronger. When they left here, the minute Jackson was out of the cage, he was dead. 

The Sheriff was gutted, knowing that Stiles had been hurt so badly and he never knew. He didn’t react at all to the boy he considered a second son suddenly becoming wolfy, if he were capable he was sure he’d be doing the exact same thing right now. 

Stiles leaned back against the wall, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry. They all know now, he thought. Months of hiding and suddenly everyone knows. How was he ever supposed to look these people in the eyes again? 

Chris felt a growing sense of respect for the young teen. It wasn’t often a human could run with wolves and it took a special kind of strength to even try. He could tell that this boy was stronger than he had ever imagined. 

**His father flinches back as if Stiles slapped him across the face. His hand jerks to one side, knocking over the glass of whiskey, and he stares at Stiles for a long moment before he abruptly pushes back from the table. He takes a step back, then to the side, as if he doesn’t know where to go. “Jesus, Stiles, you – you don’t – do you have any idea how serious an accusation that is, if, if you don’t have proof, if you’re just making this up to get him in trouble or get yourself out of it – ”**

“Shit,” the Sheriff mutters, dropping his head into his hands. That was the wrong thing to say. Oh God, he thought, what would Stiles do if he thought he didn’t believe him about this? 

Tears started rolling down Stiles’ face. His dad didn’t believe him! How could he think he would make something like that up? 

**Now Stiles is the one to flinch, and the lump in his throat is becoming impossible to swallow. He opens his mouth to say something but realizes there’s nothing he can say. So he just stands up and walks out. Behind him, he can hear his father calling his name, and he breaks into a jog. He gets into the Jeep just as his father makes it onto the front porch, and ignores him as he backs out and starts driving.**

**He’s too upset to process, to plan, to think. He just drives. He hits main street, which leads him to the old country road which takes him out of town. A ten minute winding drive through the woods, and he’s on Route 299, which will eventually take him to Interstate 5, if he drives that long. He’s not really aware of that or intending to do it. He just drives.**

**_/ “Hey, Stiles.” It’s a girl he doesn’t know very well. “Lydia wants to see you. She’s really glad you came. Upstairs. Second door on the right.”_**

**If he hadn’t had so much to drink, Stiles would have seen the trap a mile away. But he was tipsy, maybe even outright drunk, and it was exactly what he wanted to hear, and he bought into every word of it, thanking the girl before he went up the stairs. But of course, it wasn’t Lydia waiting for him. It was Jackson.**

**He was drunk, too, drunk and pissed off, because Stiles was always looking at Lydia, and Jackson is many things, but secure in his relationship with Lydia is not one of them. Jackson pushed him around, hit him a few times, said nasty things about his parentage. All the while Stiles protested that it wasn’t like that, sure he thinks Lydia’s pretty, but he’s not a poacher, why can’t he just be nice to a girl?**

**It was a complete lie and Jackson knew it, and before Stiles could figure out a way to escape, Jackson had cleaned his clock and he was on his back on the bed, groaning. Jackson leaned over him and turned him over, twisting an arm up around his back. _“I’ll teach you what it’s like to have someone after you who won’t take no for an answer.” /_**

“Oh God,” Stiles whispered, “I don’t want to hear this again.” He covered his ears but now that he’d hear it being read he could hear it happening in his head, just as it had that night. 

**Stiles realizes that his hands are shaking so hard that the wheel is wobbling. He sees a road and turns off, pulling over. His chest aches, heart beats wildly out of control, throat tight and sore. He can barely draw in air, and he wonders if he’s going to die.**

 **His phone chimes, and then chimes again, and he reaches over and turns it off without looking to see who’s messaging him. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t care. He just needs the world to leave him alone for a little while.**

Scott whined a little in the back of his throat. He should be there right now. His friend needed him. Where was Stiles now, he looked around frantically. He needed to be there to help his friend the way Stiles always helped him. 

**_/ He could smell the liquor on Jackson’s breath as the other boy pushed him down, squashed his face into the mattress, fumbled at his belt. “Jackson, what – what’re you – ” Stiles protested, but then he realized what was happening. He started to shout but Jackson just pushed him down again so any noise he could make was muffled in the blankets.Stiles struggled but Jackson was stronger, and Jackson had gravity on his side. “Don’t think I’m enjoying this, you fucking shit stain. I just want to make sure you stay away from my girl. Hell, I want to make sure you stay away from everyone. Go die in a ditch somewhere after this, make the world a better place.” /_**

Scott snarled, glaring at Jackson who looked absolutely petrified. Scott had never been so absolutely enraged but he was now. He wished he had taken Stiles up on his suggestion of killing Jackson when he had the chance.

Everyone in the stared at Jackson in either horror or disgust. Much to everyone’s surprise, Jackson abruptly vanished. A new paper floated down from the ceiling.

 _“Don’t worry, Jackson is locked up tight for you when you finish reading but I’ve decided that he doesn’t need to be here. He is taking far too much enjoyment over hearing how much he is hurting Stiles. Ta ta!”_

No one really knew what to say in response so they turned back to the book. 

**He had tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. Hell, he had welcomed the arrival of werewolves and chaos into his life because at least that was something he could focus on. And he pretended everything was normal. He went to lacrosse and did his classwork, and if Scott noticed something off about him, well, their entire orderly world had been upended around them. Who wouldn’t act a little weird after that?**

“I should have noticed,” Scott said miserably. Melissa came up to him and wrapped him in a hug. As freaked out as she might be about the whole werewolf thing, she could not ignore her son when he looked so absolutely devastated and heartbroken. “He’s my best friend, how could I not notice?” he sobbed.

**And he can still remember the first day of school, clear as day – “Hey, Lydia, you look . . . like you’re gonna ignore me!” And he had let her go, not chased after her, not tried to compliment her dress or her shoes, because there was only so far he could go now. But somehow they kept getting thrown together, all of them, and every time he thought he might tell someone what had happened, there had been a photograph e-mailed to him. A photograph of him, that night at the party. Curled up on the bed in the guest room afterwards, naked, crying. Or one of him during, though it’s always cut off so Jackson’s face can’t be seen.**

“He took pictures?” Danny whispered, horrified. 

**It must have been Jackson who took it, set up his phone beforehand to document the experience. Stiles is pretty sure that nobody else knows what happened between the two of them. It would have been all over school like wildfire if anybody did. It’s just him and Jackson – but the other teenager has made it clear that it doesn’t have to be that way. Stiles has read the stories of the girls this has happened to, who have been called sluts and made outcasts and eventually driven to suicide. He has no intention of that being him.**

**Or at least he hadn’t, except now Jackson is a lizard monster and his father’s lost his job and everything has – he wouldn’t have thought it was possible – gotten even worse.**

**The panic attack gradually abates. He finds himself able to breathe again. When he finally gets himself together, he looks at his watch to see that it’s nearly two thirty. He has no idea how long he’s just been sitting there on the side of the road.**

**He reaches over and picks up his phone. When he turns it back on, he’s got twenty-eight messages. Twenty of them are from his father – three voice, seventeen text – and the other eight are from Scott, all texts. Which means that his father was worried enough to call Scott in the middle of the night to see if he had heard from his son.**

**The idea of going home makes him nauseous, but what else can he do? He can’t leave now. Not when everything else is going on. He’ll just have to face the music.**

**He doesn’t listen to or read any of the messages. He just sends one to each of the concerned parties. The one to Scott reads, _‘sry Dad worried u. am ok, c u tomorrow.’_ Then he sends one to his father. _‘On my way home now. See you soon.’_ Then he turns the phone off again because he just doesn’t want to know what either of them has to say about anything.**

**It takes him longer to get back than he would have anticipated. He hadn’t realized how far he had gone, or maybe he hadn’t realized how fast he had been driving. It’s past three when he pulls into the driveway. As soon as the door to the Jeep shuts, his father is on the front porch, hands white-knuckled on the railing. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the last hour.**

**Stiles walks up the front path then past his father, not even looking at him. He’s sure that if he does, he’ll lose what little composure he has left. His father just stands there wordlessly as he walks by. For a few moments, Stiles thinks that that might be it. That they might honestly never talk about what had happened before he left the house.**

**But his father catches up with him just as he starts up the stairs. He grabs him by the arm, turning him around slightly. Stiles’ gaze flickers to his face, but then drops to his shoes. “Jesus, Stiles, I thought – ” It takes a moment for the sheriff to be able to form a complete sentence. “You don’t have to talk to me or, or forgive me or anything, but you have to – at least let me say it. I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I – I’m afraid that if I let you go into your room without saying anything, you’ll never come out of it.”**

The Sheriff, Melissa and Scott were struck by the thought of a world without Stiles in it and they all shuddered. The thought of him not being there, not being alive, was absolutely horrifying.

**Stiles pushes a hand through his hair. “I won’t . . . hurt myself,” he finally says, though he still won’t really look at his father. “I promise. I just – want to get some sleep, okay? I’m really fucking tired.”**

**“Okay.” His father lets him go. “Okay, I . . . g’night, son. I’ll . . . see you in the morning.”**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Night.”**

**He goes the rest of the way up the stairs and into his room. He doesn’t even bother to undress, but just kicks off his shoes before flopping down onto his bed and closing his eyes, hoping that he falls asleep sooner rather than later.**

**“Hey!” Scott catches up with Stiles as he goes up the front steps of the school. “Hey, what was going on last night? Your dad was seriously freaking when he called me.”**

**“Yeah, it was nothing,” Stiles says, waving this off. “We just got in an argument because of him, you know, getting put on leave because of the whole thing with Jackson and the van, and . . . I don’t really want to talk about it. Besides, we’ve got more important things to worry about, like how a dead guy could be controlling the kanima and shit.”**

**“Right,” Scott says. They put their heads together on that for a little while and come to the conclusion that, as usual, they have no idea what the fuck is going on. Everything that happened at the rave seems to have only made things worse. “Hey, what time are you picking me up tonight?”**

**“For what?” Stiles asks, as they dump their things at their respective desks.**

**“Lydia’s birthday party,” Scott says.**

**Stiles fumbles his books and spills them all over the floor. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he says, wondering if there’s any excuse he can give not to go. He’s been dreading it since the moment it came up. Lydia’s house. Lydia’s party. At least he’s been invited this time. He doesn’t know whether or not Jackson will be there, given the current state of his and Lydia’s relationship. “I don’t know, eight-ish, I guess?”**

**"Okay, cool,” Scott says.**

**Stiles manages to get his things together and vows to spend the entire time by the pool and not drink anything alcoholic. He blitzes through most of his homework during study hall because he has important possibly-dead-people related research to do. Unfortunately, in this case he’s not even sure what to Google. ‘Murder lizard controlled by ghost’ doesn’t get him a lot of hits.  
**

**Derek and his pack are busy getting ready for the full moon, so he’s out as a resource, although Stiles makes a mental note that he still hasn’t had a chance to grab the alpha by the front of the shirt and demand to know what the hell he was thinking, giving someone like Jackson the bite.**

**Derek sighed, he certainly had a right to that question. He felt a deep sadness knowing that he had done something that forced Stiles into confrontations with his rapist who was suddenly much stronger than him.**

**He’ll have to put that on his calendar. He’s tempted to work with Derek – who seems to be the only person besides him who’s considering ‘let’s kill Jackson’ as a valid option – but he knows that Scott would just get pissed off at him.**

Well that’s a surprise. Derek hadn’t thought either teen liked him. Though it made sense that Stiles, ever the logical, practical, resourceful teenager would take advantage of every resource available.

**He sighs and starts thinking about what to wear to the party as he jogs into the house. Something unattractive. He won’t even bring a present. No, Lydia would notice if he does that. What in God’s name can he possibly buy? What sort of present says ‘I still have a crush on you but totally don’t have a crush on you?’**

**Of course, he has to admit that his ‘I’ll just stay away from Lydia’ plan has crashed and burned for a variety of reasons, and they aren’t all werewolf related. Even when he convinces himself to avoid her, he can never do it for very long. He just kept hoping that if he can make her see how much he appreciates her – in so many ways that Jackson’ doesn’t – she would dump his sorry ass. She deserves so much better. He doesn’t even care if he gets her in the end, doesn’t know that he’d even be able to ever look her in the eye after what Jackson did to him.**

**Then Jackson had to go and dump her, and step all over her feelings doing it, and now Stiles is doubly confused about how he should react around her. Does he actually have a chance with her? Would it make him even more of a jerk to flirt with her while she’s on the rebound? Does she have any idea that he actually likes her because of who she is, rather than in spite of who she is?**

Lydia didn’t know how she felt, hearing this. She had always known that Stiles liked her, he wasn’t exactly subtle about it, but to think he actually cared so much about her, she felt grief that anything they might have had, anything they might have been to one another, would now always be tainted by what Jackson had done to him. It’s my fault, she realized horrified. He did it because of me.

**Once inside the house, he just drops everything where he stands and lets his head thunk back against the door.  
**

**“Long day?” his dad asks, and Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin.**

**“Jesus, I forgot you’d be home,” he says, scooping up his stuff. “Uh, yeah, no, I just, school and stuff.” He hastens into the kitchen to get a drink and try to regain his equilibrium. His top half disappears into the refrigerator as he digs around for the last can of Cherry Coke. He had been half-hoping that the fact that there had been another murder would have gotten his father back to the station. Apparently not.**

**They stand in completely awkward silence for a few minutes.**

**“Well, I, uh,” Stiles says. “Homework. I’ll be in my room.” He jogs up the stairs and shuts the door behind himself without another word. He dumps his bag on the chair and flops onto his bed, facedown. There are so many things he should be doing, and he can’t motivate himself to do any of them. Everything feels like swimming upstream lately, like defeat is inevitable so why even bother? He’s fighting against inertia, and he’s losing, badly.**

The Sheriff and Melissa exchanged worried looks. This sounded a lot like depression. They would have to keep an eye on Stiles to ensure that it didn’t get to severe.

**Minutes trickle by before there’s a knock on his door. “Stiles?” his dad says from outside.**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says in reply, staring at his ceiling.**

**“Are you . . . okay in there?”**

**Stiles sighs. Damn his father for being perceptive. And damn himself for not realizing that his father would know something was wrong because he hasn’t put on any music and he can’t hear him typing or moving around. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine,” he says.**

**“Can I come in?”**

**“Just a sec.” Stiles hauls himself into a sitting position and drags a book out of his backpack, flipping it open so it’ll look like he was studying. “Yeah, okay.”**

**From the look on his father’s face when he comes in, it’s obvious that he doesn’t buy Stiles’ casual ‘of course I’m just doing my homework’ routine. He sits down on the edge of the bed. “Look, if you need anything . . .”**

**Like what, Stiles wonders, but he understands that this isn’t easy for his father to deal with, any more than it’s easy for him. So he just shakes his head and says, “No, I’m okay.”**

**Sheriff Stilinski laces and unlaces his fingers. “Okay. But I, uh, I just wanted to say, about the police van . . . don’t worry about it, okay? You don’t have to say anything about why you did it. If you don’t want to. This whole leave of absence . . . it’s just a temporary thing. They just have to put it on record that they looked into it.”**

**“Okay, Dad,” Stiles says, burying his nose in his history textbook.**

**Since the conversation is growing more awkward by the second, Sheriff Stilinski apparently decides to back out before it gets worse. He stands up and heads for the door.**

**“Oh, uh,” Stiles says, calling after him, “I’m going out tonight. It’s, uh. Lydia’s birthday.”**

**Sheriff Stilinski frowns. “Will you . . . be all right? At her party?”**

**“Yeah, sure, I was actually invited this time and everything,” Stiles says, and his father winces. “And Jackson won’t even be there, I don’t think, since he and Lydia broke up, so, you know, no worries about his restraining order or anything.”**

**“About that . . .” Stilinski says.**

**“Don’t,” Stiles says, and shakes his head, not looking up. “You were right. I don’t have proof. I shouldn’t have even said anything.”**

**“That’s not what . . .”**

**“Let it go, okay?” Stiles says, his voice short and abrupt. He rolls over so he doesn’t have to look at his dad. “I don’t want to talk about it.”**

**“Okay,” his father says. He’s quiet, uncertain, and Stiles hates that, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard him like that before. His father isn’t always right, but he always at least knows what to do, or even when he doesn’t, he thinks he does. Except now.**

**“Okay, I’ll just, uh, you have a good time. At the party.” He backs out of the room before things can get worse.**

**As soon as the door shuts, Stiles throws the textbook across the room. He has to take several deep breaths before he can calm down. He resolves to buy Lydia a ridiculous birthday present.**

**As parties go, it could be worse. Okay, there’s the hallucinogenic punch, awkward swimming pool accidents, drag queens, and murder lizards,**

“What?” The Sheriff asked, completely bewildered. Everyone else just shrugged, they didn’t know any more than he did.

**but still, it’s not the worst party he’s ever attended. He’s pretty sure it’s going to be a long time before anything breaks that record. He’s not even sure where Lydia went; he hasn’t seen her for the last hour and why was the punch hallucinogenic anyway? None of which particularly matters because Matt is the kanima’s master and –  
“And that’s why you should always listen to me,” Stiles sums up as they race back towards his house in the Jeep, “because I amalways right, real talk.”**

**Scott scrubs both his hands through his hair and says, “But if Matt’s the one who fucked with Jackson’s tape, why did he thenpoint out that someone had fucked with the tape – ”**

**“Do I look like I understand the mind of an emotionally fucked up, possibly dead, stalker serial killer?” Stiles interrupts. “Because I really do not. Matt’s evil and we’ve gotta talk to my dad, end of story.”**

**It takes some time to get Sheriff Stilinski on board with the ‘Stiles is always right’ plan, and at one point he starts to say, “You want me to trust you?” but then his gaze skitters sideways as he thinks about what happened the previous night and doesn’t quite get the sentence out. Stiles hastily derails the conversation by suggesting that his father trust Scott, since Scott of course is the shining example of all that’s good and honest in the universe and certainly never got raped at a party.**

Scott and the Sheriff both flinched. Neither one of them wanted to make Stiles feel inferior because he had been hurt. 

**Everything’s going just swimmingly until Matt shows up and starts killing people and somehow Stiles finds himself paralyzed on the floor with Derek while Jackson skulks around and his father is chained up somewhere and everything is terrible. Every time Jackson looks at him, he can feel the panic start to rise in his chest. Jackson isn’t himself right now, so Stiles supposes heprobably won’t do anything to him, but ‘probably’ isn’t particularly reassuring. Jackson could do anything to him while he’s paralyzed and helpless. Only Derek’s presence in the room keeps Stiles from having a complete freak-out.**

**“That’s disgusting,” he says, as Derek digs his claws into his own thigh.**

**They lie there in silence for a while as Matt takes Scott on his little tour down memory lane. Derek can hear their conversation fairly clearly, and relays bits of it to Stiles as his claws flex and relax.**

**“So when he says he ‘died’, what he really means is ‘he had a nasty experience’,” Stiles says. “Okay. Gotcha. My sympathy meter is reading a little low, but hey, it’s been a rough night.” He tries to glance over at Derek, who just grunts in reply. The panic wells up again. “Can you – can you still hear my dad?”**

**“I told you, Stiles, if anything happens to your dad, I’ll tell you,” Derek says. “He’s trying to pull the handcuffs out of the wall.”**

**That’s his dad, Stiles thinks, the panic momentarily replaced with pride. Sheriff or not, he’s not going to let some asshole teenager with a gun take over his police station. Jackson wanders over to check on them, every movement slow and reptilian, the scales on one side of his face rippling with the motion. Stiles swallows hard and tries not to look at him.**

**“Calm down,” Derek snarls at him. “Your panic is distracting me.”**

**“Fuck you, asshole,” Stiles replies. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t thought it was a bright idea to give Jackson the bite. What the fuck were you thinking?”**

**Derek growls and replies, “I was thinking that I needed a pack and he was willing. We’re not supposed to turn people against their will, Peter never should have done that to Scott, so when I needed a pack, Jackson was a logical choice.”**

**Stiles thinks to himself that there’s a real rape metaphor here that just makes everything more ironic, and he starts to laugh, close to hysterics. “How’d that work out for you? Because from over here, it looks like it worked out like shit.**

**“Thank you, Captain Hindsight,” Derek replies.**

**They lie there in silence for a while because really, what can either of them say?**

**“So is that hypothetical plan of yours becoming any less hypothetical?” Stiles finally asks.**

**“I can move my toes,” Derek replies.**

**“Dude, I can move my toes,” Stiles says, thinking that it’s going to be a long night.**

**But then of course everything goes to shit, there are people with guns and Stiles literally has no idea what’s going on. (He does have to admit a brief, fuzzy feeling about Derek telling Scott, “Take him! Go!” but pushes that aside to a point that he’ll have time to deal with it, like never.) A lot happens very quickly, mostly while he’s lying prone on the floor feeling powerless and terrified.**

**Somehow his father manages to get through the entire incident without once seeing a werewolf, werelizard, or other such telltale details such as paralyzed teenagers. That seems to be the most supernatural thing of all, but Stiles takes it as a definite sign that his father is not meant to know about the bizarre goings-on. Eventually other police officers show up, drawn by the gunfire, and ambulances, and by then Stiles is on his feet, shaky but mobile. They check his father for a concussion but decide he doesn’t have one. Stiles wants him to go to the hospital anyway, but his father vetoes him because Matt is still on the loose somewhere.**

**Scott’s taking his mom home and Derek vanished somewhere during the fighting. Jackson’s long gone, and Stiles’ father has left with several officers to try to track down Matt. Stiles is left sitting alone in a police station full of dead bodies, trying not to cry.**

“Wow,” Allison said quietly, not really sure what to say.

“I can’t believe he would do that,” Danny said, looking lost.

Scott clutched his mother tighter, needing her comfort. He still wasn’t there for Stiles, how did he get to the point where he was so disconnected from the boy he had grown up with? Why hadn’t Stiles trusted him? 

“Who is going to read next?” Lydia asked quietly.

Everyone looked around. Nobody wanted to risk getting a chapter with more detail about the rape but knew it was inevitable. 

“I’ll do it,” Danny volunteered. He knew more detail were likely to come up in this next chapter and he didn’t think it was fair for Stiles’ father or best friend to have to be the ones to read it. Chris wordlessly handed the book over to Danny who turned the page and started to read.


	2. Chapter 2

**“Stiles, hey.” There’s a gentle knock on the door on Stiles’ bedroom, but his father pushes it open without waiting for a reply. He’s wearing his full uniform, the sheriff’s pin right back where it belongs, shining in the dim light. “You awake?” he asks, despite the fact that it’s past noon. “The . . . the funerals start in an hour.”**

“Wait, they just died, how is it already their funerals?” Scott asked.

Allison shrugged, “Maybe there is a time skip? Like, nothing important happened between then and now so there is nothing written about it.”

**Stiles glances up from where he’s lying curled up on his bed. “Oh . . . yeah. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Is there coffee?”**

**“I drank the last mug. But we should have time to stop at Starbucks on the way, if you want.”**

**Starbucks is a special treat, and Stiles knows that his father is just trying to make him feel better about the awful day that’s sure to follow. And he desperately needs the caffeine, because he is awake, of course he’s awake, he’s barely slept since that night at the station, and now he’s got four funerals to sit through for the fallen officers.**

**He gets off the bed slowly, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to focus, trying to ward off the crushing feeling of inertia. He dresses in black slacks, a gray button-down shirt, and a black jacket. He doesn’t own a lot of nice clothes. His father glances up and gives him an awkward nod as he comes downstairs. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he says.**

**“No, I do,” Stiles says. “I mean, as much as it’s possible to want to go to a funeral, I do.”**

**So they get in the car, and they stop by the Starbucks, and Sheriff Stilinski can’t help but roll his eyes a little as Stiles orders some ridiculous drink with caramel and extra espresso shots. He drinks it slowly as they drive to the cemetery. All the services are going to be graveside, to allow for the twenty-one gun salute.**

**He texts with Scott on the way. Scott’s upset because his mother won’t talk to him. Stiles tries to muster up the energy to care. He manages a few well-worn platitudes. Nobody’s heard from Derek since the night at the station. Allison’s not talking to any of them, either. Stiles has more sympathy for her – her mother just died, for Christ’s sake, and he knows how that feels –**

Allison gave a watery chuckle. The reminder of her mother’s impending death was like a stab to the heart but she couldn’t help but feel better knowing that Stiles could help her through it.

**but he thinks that Scott is an idiot for not telling her why her mother died. It’s his decision, and Stiles won’t make it for him, but he foresees that keeping the truth from Allison is only going to cause more trouble in the long-term.**

**Each funeral is torturous in its own way, from Kendra’s sobbing fiancée to James’ huddled collection of children, now orphans since his wife died of ovarian cancer last year, to Keith’s pregnant wife taking the folded flag with hands that shake, and Stanley’s mother accepting his since he had never married. Sheriff Stilinski says a few quiet words to each of the families while Stiles stands awkwardly by each grave, hating himself more for not being able to prevent this with every passing moment.**

Scott instinctively turned to tell Stiles that it wasn’t his fault but quickly remembered that Stiles was not there. Well, the note had said he was around, didn’t it? What could it hurt? “It wasn’t your fault, Stiles!” he shouted.

Several people jumped at the unexpected loud sound and though many of them wanted to scold Scott for scaring them, none of them could bring themselves to do so given what he was saying. The Sheriff dearly wished his son was sitting next to him so that he could tell him the same thing.

**“I know what you’re thinking,” his father says, on the drive home, “but this wasn’t your fault.”**

**“I know,” Stiles says woodenly.**

**“And I’m really proud of you,” his father adds. “I mean . . . you solved the case. Yes, Matt committed a lot of violence the other day . . . but he probably would have gone on to kill even more people if you hadn’t stopped him. You saved a lot of people’s lives.”**

**“I guess,” Stiles replies. He shifts a little and says, “Any leads on how he turned up dead in Miller’s Pond?”**

**“Not yet,” his father says. “I have to admit . . . maybe I haven’t been looking into it as zealously as I could have been.”**

**Which makes sense. Stiles thinks that his father probably presumes whoever killed Matt was one of the other victims’ relatives, trying to get revenge, which would make such an action understandable. Personally, he has no idea who killed Matt, or why. Like his father, he’s not sure he cares, although it’s for very different reasons. For his father, it’s the four funerals they just went to. For Stiles, it’s that creeping indifference to everything, the pull of inevitability that numbs him every time he tries to come up with a plan. It’s just as paralyzing as the kanima’s venom, in its own way.**

Everyone was starting to feel worried by Stiles’ growing apathy. That just didn’t sound healthy. Especially for such a usually energetic teenager.

**They go home and it’s late now, almost seven PM, and neither of them have really eaten. Sheriff Stilinski suggests ordering pizza and waits for Stiles’ outraged comments about his cholesterol. All he gets is, “I’m not really hungry . . . just order for yourself. I think I’m going to take a shower and turn in early.”**

The Sheriff grimaced. Things must be really bad if Stiles didn’t care that he was eating junk food. How hard would Stiles argue if he tried to suggest therapy? He hoped his son could realize that he may really need it and that he couldn’t keep going the way he was.

**For a moment, it seems like his father might protest, or suggest that this isn’t healthy. But then he just says, “Okay. You . . . you get some rest.”**

The Sheriff turned to Melissa, “How long do you think I should just go along with him before I start to push him?”

Melissa thought about it but realized that she just couldn’t answer him. “I honestly don’t know. I can talk to some of the counselors at the hospital, see what they recommend. But I think we may just have to play this by ear and see if Stiles can get better on his own without needing to be pushed.”

**Stiles trudges up the stairs. He takes an inordinately long time in the shower, hoping he’ll be tired when he comes out. He isn’t, not really, but he crawls into bed anyway. He tries not to think about what’s been happening, but it’s obviously a lost cause. He tosses and turns for hours, occasionally sitting up and trying to distract himself by reading for a little while, which never gets him very far.**

**Around midnight, he decides to get up for a little while, maybe make himself some tea. He goes downstairs and sees that his father is still up. He’s sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas, so obviously he tried to go to sleep at some point, but much like Stiles, eventually gave up. He gives Stiles a weary greeting as he comes into the kitchen and fills a mug with water.**

**Neither of them talk while he busies himself making the tea. His father, he’s relieved to see, is not drinking whiskey.**

The Sheriff sighed again. How had he never noticed the way Stiles constantly worried about his drinking? How did he never notice that Stiles checks to see what he’s drinking. And how dare he be the one trying to drink away the pain when his son was the one who had been so badly hurt?

**He has a mug of warm milk, which he swears by but Stiles can’t stand. He’s sitting there with the newspaper’s word jumble, although it doesn’t look like he was having much luck with it.**

**When his tea is done, Stiles drags a chair over and puts it behind his father, so they can sit back to back and they won’t have to look at each other. Then he plops down in it, blowing on the top of the tea to cool it down. They sit in silence for a long minute. “So . . . last winter, I went to Lydia’s annual post-Christmas bash. I wasn’t invited. But, you know, that didn’t matter to me. I told myself it was just an oversight. Obviously she meant to invite me. We’d known each other since third grade, right?”**

Lydia bit her lip. She was such an awful person. She had ignored this boy who had been there for her, who had been raped for being too close to her but had still gone out of his way to try and help her and she couldn’t even be bothered to invite him to a stupid party.

Scott, Melissa, the Sheriff and Danny all took deep, steadying breaths. They were not ready to hear about their son/pseudo son/best friend/best friend’s victim being raped. And they just knew that it was going to be detailed. 

From his hiding spot Stiles let out a shuddery breath. He could see that night playing over in his head again and again. ‘I don’t want to hear this!’ he thought desperately. ‘Please just stop.’ But much like that night, pleading had no effect. 

**“Stiles . . .” Sheriff Stilinski sounds deeply uncomfortable. “You don’t have to . . .”**

**“No, I do,” Stiles says. “I do have to. Okay?”**

**“Yeah,” his father says quietly. “Okay.”**

**“Nobody there really wanted me there, so I wasn’t really having a good time, so I had a few drinks to, you know, loosen up. I barely even saw Lydia. She was always surrounded by a throng of admirers. I went to tell her merry Christmas and she asked me who I was. So, you know. Typical Lydia Martin.**

Lydia bit her lip, trying not to cry. How could he still be so nice to her when her not knowing who he was was considered typical behavior? And he had given her by far the most thoughtful gift that Christmas and she didn’t even know who he was.

**I told her I was the one who had gotten her the DVDs of Shark Week because I knew she liked sharks and she likes science and stuff. That surprised her a little. That I had noticed, or remembered. But there were so many people there, she just got distracted talking to them, I guess.**

**“But like an hour later, some girl I didn’t really know told me Lydia wanted to talk to me, that she was waiting upstairs. I was so excited. I thought maybe she had put together that there was always this one guy who actually paid attention, who got her something besides make-up or shoes. Maybe she wanted to thank me or something. Of course, that’s not what it was. Jackson had the girl send me up there.**

**“First he just slapped me around some, and, you know, told me to stay away from his girl.” Stiles wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “You know, said that he had noticed and he wasn’t going to let me get away with it. But then he . . . said he was going to teach me a lesson. So I would know what it was like to be the one trying to say no. He pushed me down on the bed. Pushed my face into the pillows so I couldn’t scream.”**

Scott shuddered. More than anything he wanted to cover his ears, block out the truth. But he would make himself listen. It serves him right to be hurt by knowing the truth. Maybe then he can make up for not being there for Stiles when he was in even more pain. Besides, why should he have the luxury of not hearing it when Stiles actually had to live it?

**“Jesus,” Sheriff Stilinski mutters. Stiles can feel him shaking. “Jesus, Stiles, you don’t . . .”**

**Stiles keeps talking as if his father hadn’t said anything. “I tried to get away but he was just so much stronger than I was. I mean, with lacrosse, and swimming . . . he held me down like it was nothing. He pulled my pants off and he . . .” For the first time, Stiles’ voice hitches. “He told me not to think he was enjoying it. That’s what he said while he raped me. That he was only doing it so I would stay away from Lydia. That I should stay away from everyone, that I should just go kill myself after this.**

“I’ll kill him,” Danny whispered. If there hadn’t been werewolves in the room, nobody would have heard him. “I’ll really kill him.”

Erica turned to Boyd. She knew that now that they were aware of just how much Stiles needed help they would be there for him. She had tried to hate him, wanted to be angry at him for never noticing her, but how could she be mad now? She had been the one to have a crush on him, had watched him, and she had never known he had been raped. He had stayed with her and Isaac last night when they were interrogating Jackson just so that he could be sure they were safe. How had must that have been? To stay in a small room with your rapist who currently was a super strong supernatural creature just to protect a guy who had tried to kill him for breaking him out of prison and a girl who had attacked him with a piece of his own car. 

**“He left me there when he was done. I just . . . got up and went home. I didn’t say anything to anyone.**

Derek closed his eyes in pain. The situation was so different but their reactions were so similar. Derek wished he had known. Derek would now always be the one who made Stiles’ rapist even stronger. And now that Jackson was the kanima Stiles would never be able to send Jackson to prison. Hopefully, Jackson’s death would make Stiles feel better. He doubted it. Kate’s death had not helped him and with Stiles’ terrible luck it wouldn’t help him either.

**I knew that no one would believe me. I mean, Jackson’s not gay, he’s not into guys, he’s got the best girlfriend, why would he . . . so I just didn’t say anything. I thought I might have to for a few days, because . . . the bleeding wouldn’t stop. But eventually it did. So I just pretended everything was normal.” Stiles puts the tea aside and pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I didn’t tell Scott or anybody. And when school started again, I just tried to stay away from him.**

**“But then Scott started dating Allison, and Allison made friends with Lydia, and somehow we kept ending up thrown together.**

Both Scott and Allison felt awful. If they had just tried to be more considerate of Stiles, had been less wrapped up in each other, maybe they would have been able to see how much they had hurt Stiles.

Allison felt even worse. She had forced Lydia to go to the dance with Stiles. What kind of hell must that have been for him?

**I thought I was going to go nuts, but just when I thought I should tell someone, I got this . . . photograph. In my e-mail. Of me. At the party.” His voice hitches again, and he can hear his father’s sharp intake of breath. “I thought about, like, that girl in Steubenville and the one in Canada and I thought . . . if I say anything, Jackson’s going to post these photos all over the internet, he’ll send them to everyone at school, and so even if I can prove he did it, my life will still be ruined. So I just kept my mouth shut. And then I had the idea about the police transport van. About how maybe I could get him alone and make him delete the photos or something. It was a stupid idea, I know, but I just didn’t know what else to do and I – ”**

**“Jesus, Stiles.” Sheriff Stilinski can’t handle it anymore. He turns in his chair and grabs Stiles around the shoulders, hugging him tightly. The back of the chair jams into Stiles’ chest and it’s incredibly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t fight back. “Jesus Christ, I can’t . . .”**

**Stiles clings to his father, grasping at what’s left of his self-control with the tips of his fingers. He swallows the lump in his throat and buries his face in his father’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to do and I’m so scared.” The words just leave him in a flood before he can stop them. “I don’t want anyone to know, I can’t, can’t say anything, the way they’ll look at me, I can’t, Daddy, I can’t, please don’t make me say anything to anyone, please don’t make me.”**

The sound of Stiles so weak threw everyone off guard. Melissa, he Sheriff and Scott all had tears running down their faces. Stiles was always the strong one. He had taken care of his dad after his mother died, he had taken care of Scott after his dad left, and he had even taken care of Melissa just by helping to take care of Scott while she was trying to pick up the pieces of her life and her marriage. It was just wrong to hear him so weak and unsure, he was always the person who knew what to do, no matter if it was a recipe that needed to be made or a werewolf alpha that needed its ass kicked.

Despite all his training saying that he should convince his son to press charges, to testify, the Sheriff knew that he could never do it. Not when his son begged him not make him do it. After what Jackson did Stiles deserved to get whatever he wanted.

**His father just holds him, and Stiles can hear him crying, feel it in the way his shoulders are shaking. But he embraces him no less tightly, one hand clutching at the back of Stiles’ T-shirt, awkwardly rocking him back and forth as Stiles sobs into his shirt. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says, over and over again. “We’ll handle this, okay? I’m here, I’ll always be here for you . . .”**

Danny, Derek, Erica and Boyd and the Argents shifted awkwardly. This was an intensely private moment between the small family. Scott and Melissa were practically family so they could listen in, but they barely knew Stiles or his father, they had no right listen to this.

**It takes a long time, but gradually, the worst of the hysterics pass. Stiles pulls away and wipes impatiently at his eyes, trembling. His father gets up and hands him his tea, which is cool enough to drink by now. Stiles tries to choke some of it down, but his throat is tight and aching.**

**“Okay.” Sheriff Stilinski takes a deep breath and turns the chairs so they’re facing again. “Okay. First things first. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Okay?” He takes Stiles’ chin in his hand and tries to force Stiles to meet his eyes, but Stiles won’t. “I know it doesn’t feel that way, but this was not your fault, and the fact that you were flirting with Lydia does not mean you deserved this. Okay?”**

**Stiles manages a nod and murmurs, “Yeah, okay.”**

**It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe it, but his father lets that go. “Two. I’m glad you told me. I know that . . . this isn’t something that’s easy to deal with, for anyone, and I understand why you didn’t tell me for a long time, and I’m not mad at you for that. But I’m glad I know. I can help you now. Okay?”**

**Another nod, another murmured agreement.**

**“Three. We . . . we can handle this however you want to, and I will support you one hundred percent. If you don’t want to say anything or press charges, okay, we can go that route. If you do, I will – ” His voice chokes a little. “I will fight through whatever we have to, to see justice done.”**

**Stiles rests his forehead in the crook of his father’s shoulder. “Okay. Is it . . . is it okay if I don’t know what I want to do yet?”**

**“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” His father rubs his back in a circular motion. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll talk it through, we’ll make a decision together. Okay? And I promise, whatever you decide is okay. I won’t lose respect for you. This is . . .” His voice chokes a little, but he manages to steady it. “You’ve been so brave, to keep going after all of that. I’m really proud of you.”**

**Stiles just leans against him, letting his father take his weight. For a minute he wants to tell his father everything, all about werewolves and kanimas and how everything in his life has just gone to the dogs, but he doesn’t. It’s late, they’re both tired, it’s too much to get into. And he doesn’t think he could handle it if his father doesn’t believe him.**

**“C’mon, kid. I think you need to get some sleep before we go making any decisions.” Sheriff Stilinski stands up, helping Stiles stand with him. He ushers him up the stairs and back into bed, even tucking him in. “Come get me if you need me. Okay? Do you promise?”**

**“Yeah, I promise,” Stiles says. His father kisses him on the forehead and leaves the room. Stiles closes his eyes and drifts into an exhausted sleep.**

~ ~ ~ ~

**One of the many good things about Matt being dead is that it means that the kanima has no master. Stiles has researched everywhere he can to see if he can find a way to exploit that fact. It’s been a good way to distract himself. The problem is that he really can’t find anything about how the kanima chooses a master.**

**“It seems to be almost like the way a bird imprints,” he tells Scott over sandwiches at lunch. Scott is staring longingly at the seat Allison normally occupies. “Hey!” Stiles snaps his fingers in front of Scott’s face. “Pay attention. The kanima seems to imprint like a bird, so it attaches to the first person it sees, right?”**

**“So, we just have to get to Jackson first?” Scott asks, frowning. “But we’ve seen him since that night at the station.”**

**“We’ve seen Jackson, but we haven’t seen the kanima,” Stiles says. “Maybe we should stake out his house and wait to see if he shifts. But the moon’s waning now. And I don’t know if the kanima is controlled by the moon’s phases or not, the way a wolf would be.” He rubs a hand through his hair. “And I don’t think it can imprint on just anybody. It has to be somebody like minded.”**

**“Someone who’s got murder on the brain,” Scott surmises.**

**“Right,” Stiles says.**

**They both look at Allison’s empty seat.**

Allison looked offended. “Why do you think I’m a murdering psychopath like Matt?” she asked, incensed. 

Scott looked panicked to be facing her wrath alone but managed to say, “I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.”

Allison glared at him but didn’t press the issue any further.

**“Okay, look, I need you to try to stick close to Allison,” Stiles says. “I know that she doesn’t want anything to do with us right now, but just . . . keep an eye on her. I’m going to have a crack at Jackson.” Because that’s what he wants to do. Spend more time with Jackson. But he’s feeling pretty murderous right now, even if there’s no one he specifically has in mind to murder (besides Jackson himself, which he figures won’t get him very far with the kanima).**

Isaac looked lost. “He’s doing so much to protect us. We haven’t done anything nice to him but he’s hurting himself just to help us. How is he so strong? I always try to run or hide when my Dad is angry, I’ve never tried to face him.”

“He’s Stiles.” Lydia said, as if that explained everything. Strangely enough, it did.

**Of course, he’s not supposed to be anywhere near Jackson right now, and if he hears the words ‘restraining order’ one more time, he might flip his shit. He has to twist some serious arms and even drop a bribe or two to get Jackson in the locker room by himself. “Look, we need to talk.”**

The Sheriff sighed. “My son is a criminal mastermind. Dropping bribes,” he muttered.

**“I have a rest – ”**

**“Oh my God, I’m the one who should have a restraining order against you, numbnuts, just drop it,” Stiles says. “This is serious, okay? People are dying.”**

**“Right, right,” Jackson says, “I’m a murder machine. I forgot.”**

**“Stop trying to pretend this isn’t happening,” Stiles snaps at him. “Stop pretending you don’t know we’re right. How’d you get out of the police van?”**

**“What?” Jackson asks, and sneers at him. “You must not have done the handcuffs right.”**

**“But you don’t know that, right?” Stiles presses. “Because you don’t actually remember doing it. Just like you don’t remember where you were the night Matt killed all the police officers. Or a ton of other nights. There are huge gaps in your memory, and you can try to pretend that there aren’t, but there are. For Christ’s sake, Jackson, we can help you, but you have to – ”**

**“I’m supposed to believe that you want to help me?” Jackson asks. “You?”**

Danny, who had been siding with Stiles thus far on how Jackson really ought to have noticed something was strange, couldn’t help but see Jackson’s point. Who is going to trust that the guy you raped is trying to help you?

**“No, chucklefuck, I want to remove your balls with a rusty spork,” Stiles says,**

Lydia, queen bitch attitude firmly in place, said, “Excellent idea. I’ll find the spork, Scott, you are in charge of holding Jackson down while we do it.”

Scott, looking dumbfounded but nevertheless pleased with the plan, nodded in agreement.

From his hiding place Stiles had a hard time not making sounds as he fought the laughter bubbling up. The image of Lydia Martin helping him castrate Jackson was just too good.

**“but I’m not the one in charge of this operation. For some strange reason, Scott and Allison don’t want you dead, so they’ve overruled me.” He sees Jackson hesitate and presses the point. “Jackson, you can’t do this on your own. You can’t control this. You have to let us help you.”**

**Jackson leans in close, and Stiles involuntarily scrambles back despite the fact that every conscious thought in his body says to hold his ground. “You can stay the hell away from me,” Jackson says, and pushes past him and out of the room.**

**“Fuck,” Stiles snarls. He wonders again why they’re even bothering. But he camps out outside the Whittemore house that night all the same. His father will be at work. They’re stretched thin until some new officers are hired, and since Beacon Hills seems to be their version of Sunnydale, he doesn’t know who in their right mind will be taking that job.**

**He and his father still haven’t talked about what they’re going to do, but as far as Stiles is concerned, there’s nothing to talk about. He’s not proud of himself for it, but the idea of coming forth makes him sick. He can’t do it, not even to save his father’s career, no matter how much he thought he could. Having told his father, knowing that his father doesn’t hate him or blame him, will have to be enough.**

Derek frowned. He wanted Jackson to pay for what he did. He was not happy that Stiles could not do it. But who was he to judge? He hadn’t even told Laura about Kate, how could he judge Stiles who had already been so much braver than him?

**It’s a long night outside the Whittemore house, drinking Red Bull and black coffee to stay awake, but when Jackson leaves around dawn, it’s in his fully human form.**

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Danny muttered.

“Why would he leave at dawn?” Lydia asked, the same feeling of foreboding plaguing her that Danny felt.

**Stiles decides to head home and take a quick shower before he heads to school. A part of him wonders why Jackson is leaving so early, but he really can’t bring himself to care.**

**A hot shower revives him a little. It’s still early, so he makes some breakfast and decides to take some food down to the station for his father. He makes an egg white omelet with spinach and broccoli, but then takes pity on his father and adds in just enough to cheese to make it edible without being unhealthy. Then he slides it into a Tupperware. His father greets him wearily, thanks him for the food, and says he’ll probably be home in the evening, so Stiles heads to school.**

**As soon as he walks in the front door of the building, he knows something’s wrong. Everyone, everyone, turns to stare at him. There are some whispers, some murmurs, and his stomach lurches to one side. He knows what’s happened even before he gets to the bulletin board just inside the door, next to the glass case that houses all the trophies nobody cares about anymore. It’s used for announcements, mainly, but now it’s covered with photographs. Photographs of him, that night at Lydia’s party. Jackson’s face is cut out of each one, but what’s happening could not be more obvious.**

**He looks down the hallway and sees that they’re everywhere. They’re taped to every door, plastered on every wall. There’s no getting away from them.**

There was a collective pause as everyone tried to reign in their anger, horror, pity and sorrow. Nobody really knew what to say. If Stiles were with them they would probably be smothering him right now in an effort to comfort him.

Stiles tried to ignore the tears sliding down his face. Everyone would know now. All that effort not telling anyone, not coming forward to avoid the humiliation of someone knowing, all of that was for nothing.

**Everything seems to slow to a crawl. He just stands there and stares at the photographs, reliving every single moment presented in them, his entire body trembling while the crowd mills around him, gawking and whispering.**

**After what could be a minute or could be an hour, he realizes that Scott has come up on one side of him. Allison is next to him. Both of them are staring at the photos in a mixture of shock and horror. Scott recovers first, looking at him and saying, “S-Stiles?”**

Scott looked at the ground. As far as things went, this wasn’t really any better of a way to find out the truth. He was glad to know the truth but it hurt that both now and in the future he didn’t find out from Stiles.

**“It really loses something without the audio, I think,” Stiles hears himself say, his voice coming from another planet, some part of his brain that’s somehow still functional. “I mean, you can’t really experience it just from the visuals.”**

**“Jesus, Stiles,” Scott says, his voice shaking. He reaches out and starts to rip the photos down. Stiles lets him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything.**

**“Scott, they’re everywhere,” Allison says in a hushed voice. Apparently the horror of this has drawn her out of the stupor her mother’s death left her in. “That won’t – won’t make a difference.”**

**“I can’t just leave them,” Scott protests, dropping a clump of shredded paper on the ground.**

**Stiles shakes his head and starts walking down the hallway.**

**“Wait – where – where are you going?” Scott jogs after him. Allison’s on his heels.**

**“I’m going to go empty my locker,” Stiles says, “and then I’m going home. Because it’s pretty obvious that I won’t be finishing the school year here.”**

**“Oh,” Scott says. “Yeah, uh, I guess – ”**

**“You should probably call my dad before you take any more of those down,” Stiles adds. “I’m pretty sure that hanging them up was a felony. And it won’t matter if you take them down, anyway. I saw lots of kids taking pictures of them, so, what’s done is done.” He reaches his locker. There’s one taped right at eye level. The worst one, the one right in the middle, where it’s obvious that he’s trying to scream but someone’s hand is over his mouth.**

The betas looked at each other. There was no way they could have just calmly gone to their locker and left after something like that. Isaac knew that if someone had put pictures of him dad or that freezer on the bulletin board he’d probably have a breakdown right then and there.

Erica felt tears in her eyes. She knew what it was like to have people gawking at you like a sideshow and taking pictures of your worst moments. She had never really taken it very well when it happened to her. She was in awe of Stiles’ strength. She also envied his apathy. She knew it wasn’t healthy and was probably very dangerous but she wished she could have just not cared when people tried to film her during a seizure; that she could have not cared when people pointed and laughed after she wet herself.

**“Stiles, you can’t – ” Scott grabs him by the arm and twists him around with supernatural strength, and Stiles is shocked to see that he’s half-shifted, right there in the hallway, fangs out, eyes gold, fury written on every inch of his face. “Tell me who did this. Tell me.”**

Chris Argent opened his mouth to tell Scott to calm down before he stopped himself. How the hell do you tell a kid not to be upset when he finds out his best friend was raped by seeing photos of said rape?

**Stiles tries to shake him off, but can’t. “Scott, calm down,” he says.**

**“How can you tell me to calm down,” Scott snarls. It’s not a question. “Tell me who did this.”**

**“It was Jackson, wasn’t it,” Allison whispers. “That’s why you kept trying to convince us to kill him.”**

**Stiles flinches despite himself. Scott shifts another inch.**

**“Okay,” Allison says, and lets out a breath. Her tone returns to normal. “Okay,” she says, and turns and walks away. “Grandpa and I will take care of it,” she says, over her shoulder.**

Since when does she call him Grandpa, Chris thought, worriedly. He knew the kind of man his father was and he did not want him anywhere near Allison; just look at Kate.

**Stiles rubs a hand over his face and starts taking things out of his locker. Scott is still struggling for control. “Why didn’t you tell me?”**

**“Would you have told me?” Stiles asks, and gestures to the photos. “If this had happened to you?”**

**There’s a pause. Then Scott shakes his head, his features fading back towards human. “I don’t know.”**

**Stiles finishes emptying his locker. “I’m going home, Scott. Just . . . call my dad. Tell him I said that I was okay. He won’t believe me, but . . . I just need to get out of here. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”**

**“I could go with you,” Scott says.**

**“Dude, you’re already failing half your classes. Besides, I don’t really want the company.” Stiles slams the locker shut. “I’ll see you later,” he says, and walks away without another word.**

“Scott, do not leave him alone!” The Sheriff shouted. “Do you have any idea what could happen?”

Scott curled in on himself at the reprimand, but looked the man in the eye anyway. “I trust Stiles.” He said simply. “If he tells me he won’t do anything stupid I believe him.”

The Sheriff didn’t like this but relented anyway.

Danny looked around him. “Who wants to read next?”

Everyone glanced around, not wanting to be the one to read when Erica stood up. “I will,” she said, walking over and taking the book.


	3. Chapter 3

**Stiles has been home less than an hour when he hears his father’s car in the driveway and then the slamming of the door. He glances over from the sofa but doesn’t move as Sheriff Stilinski rushes into the house. When he sees Stiles, sitting on the couch with an Xbox controller in his hand, his expression transforms into one of profound relief. “You’re okay,” he says.**

**“’m better’n okay,” Stiles says. He tosses the controller aside and hauls himself off the sofa to reassure his father, stumbling towards him and nearly falling over.**

The Sheriff had never felt like such a failure. He had passed his coping mechanism of drinking until he didn’t care anymore onto his son. This amazingly strong boy who he should have taught to turn to his loved ones for help instead learned to turn to the bottle when he needed comfort. What kind of father was he?

**His father catches him before he can walk into the table. “You’re drunk,” he says.**

**“No’m not,” Stiles says. “’m way b’yond drunk. ‘m fuckin’ _plastered._ ”**

**Stilinski sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I guess I can’t really . . . come on, let’s get you sitting down.” He ushers Stiles back over to the sofa, picking up the remote to the television so he can turn off the glorious violence that Stiles has been participating in. He just sits there for a minute while Stiles leans against him, one hand rubbing absently at the back of his neck. “Do you want to know what happened at school?”**

**“Sure,” Stiles slurs out. “Tell me all ‘bout it.”**

**“Well, after Scott called me, he went down to the principal’s office. I guess there are security cameras in the school and Scott wanted to get the footage before it went mysteriously absent. Meanwhile, Allison and Lydia went around taking all the pictures down.”**

**“Shit. Lydia. _Lydia.”_ Stiles can’t even think of what to say after that. The idea of Lydia having seen those photographs was somehow worse than anything else.**

Lydia ignored the single tear that slid down her face, what did it matter at this point; her make-up was already ruined. How could he still care about what she thought after what had happened because of her? 

**“Yeah, she recognized that it was her house,” his father says wearily. “She was upset, but Allison talked her out of calling you or coming over. And apparently kept her distracted enough while taking the pictures down that she didn’t look at any of them long enough to recognize Jackson. I think she thought that would just make things worse.”**

Lydia didn’t know what to think about that. On the one hand she was furious that they were hiding things from her. However, she really couldn’t fault them for not telling her her boyfriend was a rapist murder lizard.

Allison actually felt happy that she had been able to do something to help Stiles who very clearly needed as much support as her could get.

**Stiles feels a strong love for Allison right now. He’s even willing to forgive her for all the craziness she’s been indulging in lately.**

What did that mean? Was the general thought going through every head in the room. Scott and Chris looked particularly worried, both glancing at her in concern only to quickly look away whenever she caught them.

**And hey, if she and Gerard really do just kill the kanima, that’s at least one of his problems solved. Although he wouldn’t have minded if they had done it a bit sooner. “Mmkay. How’s m’boy?”**

**Stilinski sighs. “Scott is . . . upset. Really upset. I think he understands why you didn’t tell him, but I guess you told him it was Jackson? Or he figured it out. Jackson wasn’t in school today, which was pretty smart of him, because otherwise I think Scott would have picked up a desk chair and beaten him to death. And honest to God, I don’t think I would have stopped him.”**

Scott nodded along to the assessment both to general surprise (he was always so cheery and didn’t seem to care about anything but Allison) and total nonchalance (Stiles was Scott’s. And nobody got away with missing with Scott’s people.)

**Stiles leans against his father more heavily and says, “Yeah you would’ve. You’re all like . . . a lawman an’ stuff.”**

**“You’re my _son,”_ the sheriff says heatedly. “No, Stiles, I wouldn’t have stopped him. I might have helped.”**

The Sheriff felt a crack in his heart. Didn’t Stiles know that he would always be more important to him than the law ever could be? Then again, a voice in his head whispered, why would he think that? The Sheriff routinely worked long hours and rarely came home and when he did he often disappeared into a bottle. Why would Stiles ever feel like a priority in his father’s life?

**There isn’t much Stiles can say to that, so he says, “What ‘bout the cam’ras ‘n stuff?”**

**Stilinski sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, Jackson was smart enough to wear a ski mask and gloves while he hung up the photographs, so we really don’t have any evidence that it was him. There are plenty of kids in town who own printers that could print photographs. Now, I could get a warrant on your word, search his computer and phone.”**

**“No,” Stiles says. “He’ll have deleted them.”**

**“He’ll have a backup somewhere.”**

**“No,” Stiles repeats.**

**His father’s fists slowly clench and unclench. “Stiles, you didn’t want to say anything because you didn’t want people to know, well, now people know. If we can’t stop that, don’t you think Jackson should pay for what he’s done?”**

**_“No,”_ Stiles chokes out. “It can get worse. It can _always_ get worse. I can’t – I _can’t.”_ He buries his face in his father’s shoulder, shuddering. “I can’t and I won’t.”**

**“Okay,” Stilinski says quietly, rubbing his back. “Okay.”**

Nobody really felt happy at this concession. They all, even Chris Argent and Danny, wanted to rip Jackson’s throat out and feed it to him. They all knew they would not be able to satisfy their bloodlust; not if it meant upsetting Stiles.

**Stiles swallows hard, but feels the bile rising. “Think ‘m gonna be sick,” he says, so his father gets him to his feet and helps him into the bathroom. He winds up on his knees for several minutes, puking up everything he ate for breakfast along with the generous amounts of alcohol he’s imbibed. His father sits with him and helps him sip some water.**

**“I’m going to go back to the school for a little while,” Sheriff Stilinski finally says, when Stiles is feeling better. “I want to talk to the administration about letting the students know that possessing those photos is a crime and sending them to anyone else is an even worse crime. Hopefully, most of them will delete them from their phones.”**

**“It’ll never go away,” Stiles murmurs. “Not really.” His eyes go suddenly wide. “Oh shit, I need to go – ” He fumbles for his laptop.**

**His father has to help him get it out of its bag and onto the coffee table. “What are you – ” he says, but then sees Stiles pull up his Facebook page. Before Stilinski can really process it, Stiles just lets out a little moan and slumps sideways on the sofa.**

**“Too late,” he mumbles. “Too late.”**

**The sheriff’s jaw is set in a grim expression as he scrolls down the list of posts on Stiles’ wall, various critiques of his ‘performance’, derogatory comments, and requests to know who ‘the lucky guy’ was and when the wedding will be. Then he quietly shuts the laptop. “I’m taking this with me,” he says.**

The Sheriff grit his teeth. What he wouldn’t give to pistol whip those little bastards…

**“Delete it,” Stiles says. “When you’re done with it. Just – delete my entire damned account.”**

**“Okay,” Stilinski says. “Promise me you won’t use your phone to go looking at what people have said.”**

**Stiles nods and slumps over. “I promise.”**

**“Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself?” his father asks, hesitating.**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Just gonna go run some innocent pedestrians over.” He sees his father frown and tries to smile. “The video game, Dad.”**

**“Oh. Right.” Stilinski squeezes his shoulder and then leaves the house.**

**Stiles tosses the remote aside, drags a blanket over his face, and wishes he was anywhere else in the world.**

**He’s not sure how long he lies there, but it has to be hours, and he thinks maybe he dozes off. Given that he had spent the entire night sitting outside Jackson’s house, it’s not really surprising. He thinks vaguely that he should have just run him over with the Jeep as soon as he had left that morning. That would have solved a lot of problems. And even if it hadn’t solved anything, it still would have been deeply satisfying.**

**He jolts back awake, feeling hungry and mostly sober, when there’s a banging at the door. Then it opens. “Stiles? Are you home?”**

**It’s Scott’s voice, so Stiles hauls himself up off the sofa. “Yeah. ‘Sup,” he says, trying to be casual.**

**Scott’s face is grim. “Look, uh – there’s obviously some heavy shit we should talk about, but in the meantime we’ve got a problem.”**

**“Of course we do,” Stiles says, and sighs. “Hang on. I need coffee.”**

**As it turns out, it seems unlikely that Gerard will be helping kill Jackson, since he’s taken control of the kanima. Scott says he called Allison and tried to talk to her about it, but she accused him of being a liar and then hung up on him. Gerard has given Scott an ultimatum – help him find Derek, or he’ll use the kanima to kill someone at the lacrosse game.**

Well, Derek thought. At least Scott’s betraying me for a good reason.

Melissa grimaced. What a dilemma for her very moral and upstanding son. He was not the type to sell someone out but at the same time he would not be able to just sit back and let people get hurt. As a werewolf, Derek would probably be able to defend himself then some random person at the game.

**Stiles sips his coffee, thinks about how it can always get worse, and wonders why he just doesn’t give a shit.**

 

**~ ~ ~ ~**

 

**It’s a greatly reluctant Stiles who allows himself to be dragged to the lacrosse game. He would really much prefer to stay in his bedroom and lick his wounds. But Scott makes the excellent point that if Gerard is going to make trouble, he might need the backup. Since Allison can’t be trusted, it’s Stiles and Scott against the world.**

“And what exactly do you think m son is going to do, Scott?” the Sheriff said angrily. As unhealthy as it was to leave Stiles to apathetically hide in the house there was no denying he would be much safer there than somewhere they knew full well was going to be attacked. And by Stiles’ rapist even!

Scott grimaced, knowing what the Sheriff must be thinking. “Stiles is the most resourceful person I know. I want him at my back during an attack. You haven’t seen him in a fight. He set an alpha werewolf on _fire_ for me once. There is no one I would want on my side more during a fight.”

None of the werewolves could explain why this effected them so profoundly but they found themselves speaking up anyway. 

“Stiles snuck into the holding cells to break me out because he knew it was a full moon and I might kill a guard. He also protected me and Erica when we were interrogating the kanima. He looks out for us even though we don’t do the same for him.” The last part came out muffled as Isaac looked down in shame.

Erica couldn’t look anyone in the eye as she said, “I ripped a piece of his Jeep off and hit him with it and threw him in a dumpster. Because of that he had to take the Jeep to the shop and he ended up being paralyzed and watching someone die. And he never even got mad about it.”

Everyone goggled at her for a moment before Derek took a deep breath and said, “When Scott told everyone I was the one trying to attack the school Stiles let me stay in his house and lied to his dad to keep me safe. He protected me after Kate shot me and would have cut off my arm to keep me alive. At the school when we were attacked by the kanima and I got paralyzed he could have left me there, I honestly probably would have deserved it, but instead he kept me afloat in the water for over two hours. He only ever let me go to try and call for help. And I never thanked him for it. And somehow that was fine with him.”

Stiles just sat there shocked. When was the last time anyone showed him any kind of appreciation? He had felt, at least a little, like he was being taken advantage of by the pack, and Scott. To hear them say otherwise meant a great deal to him.

Erica coughed awkwardly, reminding everyone of the story at hand. She started to read again.

**So he goes, but he doesn’t play, because the school has a rule that you have to attend school the day of a game in order to play in it, and he’s not about to show his face in actual classes. In fact, he thinks about whether or not it would be possible to get plastic surgery before the game. Or if people would freak out if he wore a ski mask.**

Scott snickered. Only Stiles, he thought.

**In the long run, he settles for ‘lurking by the back of the stands and hoping nobody notices me’, a strategy that works fairly well until all the lights go out, there’s general screaming and terror, and he finds himself in a headlock being dragged away from the stands. Somehow he winds up in the back of an SUV, wrestling with some guy in a leather jacket who grabs him every time he reaches for the door handle and tries to jump out. All of which culminates in him in the Argent’s basement getting his ass handed to him by someone four times his age. It’s really not going on his list of best days ever.**

The Sheriff rounds on Chris and barks, “If I ever see that man I swear to God I will put a bullet in his skull you hear me?!”  
Chris just nods his head sharply. It was hard to argue with a man hearing about his son being assaulted. Especially so fresh off of finding out about the other assault.

**He’s not even sure _why_ Gerard is kicking his ass. To send a message to Scott, who’s already basically agreed to work with him, or to get information, which there would surely be easier ways to get, or possibly just because he’s a geriatric psychopath, which honestly seems to be the best explanation. Stiles winds up lying on the cement floor with blood in his mouth and pain in every inch of his body.**

**He gets a quick glance over his shoulder at Erica and Boyd as leather-jacket-guy drags him back up the stairs and to the SUV.**

“Shit,” Erica said, looking at Boyd. Why the hell were they in the Argent basement?

**“Wait, so, you’re just letting me go?” he shouts at Gerard, but Gerard has already left. He presumably has important murdering to do. So the asshole in the SUV drives him back home, and he climbs the stairs to find his dad saying worried things into his phone. “I’m right here,” he says, half-lifting his hand in greeting.**

**Sheriff Stilinski gets one look at his face and promptly flips his shit, demanding to know what happened. Stiles tries to fend him off, saying, “It’s okay, it’s just, a guy said a nasty comment about the photos and I tried to hit him so he smacked me around a bit.”**

**“Who was it? I want his name, God damn it, I’m going to go down to the school and pistol whip the little bastard – ”**

**“Dad!” Stiles shouts. “I said I’m okay.”**

The Sheriff sighed, burying his face in his hands. Stiles was not alright and he finally knew it. He wished there was something he could do to fix it,

**His father studies him for a moment before drawing him into a crushing embrace. Stiles hugs back just as hard.**

**When he pulls away, Sheriff Stilinski says, “Wait, then – when did you leave the game?”**

**“I don’t know, maybe a little after half time,” Stiles says, hedging because he’s not sure where his father is going with this. “Why?”**

**“Then you don’t know,” his father says.**

**“Jesus, don’t know _what?”_ Stiles asks, wishing he had thought to call Scott before going back into his house to see what had happened in the chaos.**

**Sheriff Stilinski steers him into a chair, which doesn’t go a long way towards making him feel better. “The lights went out – a fuse must have blown or something. There was basically a riot, and in the confusion . . . Jackson was hurt. Bad. The paramedics came, but he didn’t have a pulse when they took him off the field.”**

The Sheriff and Scott felt a vicious satisfaction. Finally Jackson was getting a little of what was coming to him.

**Stiles is now intensely glad that his father had made him sit down, because he feels dizzy, light-headed, with this news. His emotional side struggles to get a grasp on it while his rational side starts trying to figure out why in the hell Gerard would have had the kanima hurt itself rather than one of the hundreds of innocent bystanders. There had to be a reason, but he’s at a complete loss as to what it might be.**

****

****Stiles locks himself in the bathroom and takes out his phone. He calls Scott, but gets his voice mail. After a few moments to think, he just leaves a message that says, “Call me if you need me.” He has no idea what Scott is up to or even where he is, so he’ll just have to handle himself. There’s a long moment while he just sits and thinks about things. Then he dials Derek.** **

Derek raised an eyebrow in surprise. Since when did Stiles call him? 

****The alpha picks up brusquely. “What?”** **

****“Hey,” Stiles says. “Gerard has Erica and Boyd. They’re chained up in his basement. There’s some kind of electrical equipment keeping them from shifting.”** **

Erica and Boyd were shocked. Stiles was going to rescue them? If they had gotten free neither of them were sure they would have remembered to send someone to get anyone left in there. Yet Stiles was doing so, telling the only person who could or would save them. 

****There’s a pause. “Okay,” Derek says. “I have to handle the kanima. I’ll deal with it as soon as I can.”** **

****“The kanima.” Stiles chokes the words out. “It’s still alive?”** **

****“Yeah. Some kind of metamorphosis is going on.”** **

****Stiles rests his forehead on one hand. “Well . . . have a blast, I guess. I’ll just, uh, wait at my house in case someone needs me.”** **

****For a moment he thinks Derek is going to hang up without saying anything else. But then he just says, “Thanks.” And the line goes dead. Stiles rubs a hand over his face and leaves the bathroom without bothering to actually shower. He goes back into his bedroom and just flops down on his bed. He’s sure there are a hundred things he should be doing, a thousand ways that he could help. But that inertia is dragging him down again, that certainty that nothing he does will help. He just can’t bring himself to care. All this mad scrambling is for what purpose? To save Jackson? He literally could not care less about whether or not Jackson is saved. Scott’s on his own with that one. His phone goes off, but he ignores it.** **

****Some time later, there’s a knock on the door. “Dad, I said I’m fine,” he says, but the knock sounds again. He sighs and hauls himself up off the bed. “How many times do I have to – ” he begins, but it’s not his father at the door, it’s Lydia.** **

****Stiles’ gaze immediately skitters away from her as if he’s been burned. Lydia doesn’t look much more sure of herself. “Hi,” she offers.** **

Danny reached over to give Lydia’s hand a squeeze. It couldn’t be easy hearing about this boy who really, truly liked you getting hurt so horribly because of you and then have him flinch away from you. 

****“Hi,” he says.** **

****“Your, uh, your dad let me in,” she adds.** **

****Stiles makes a mental note to have a stern talk with his father about this at his nearest convenience, but he stands back to let Lydia into his room. Because she’s upset, and she’s Lydia, and no matter what else is going on, he still cares about her. And her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, just died, or sort of died, and she has every right to be upset.** **

“He’s a lot more understanding than I would be,” Isaac said. Most people in the room agreed with him. 

****“You have seventeen missed messages from Scott,” she informs him.** **

****“Yeah,” he says, because he really couldn’t care less about what Scott’s doing right now. He should. He knows he should. There are people in danger, people he cares about. But he just doesn’t.** **

Scott made a wounded sound. Stiles was the only person he ever truly depended on who never let him down. Even his own mother flinched away after finding out he was a werewolf. He didn’t know how he could possibly go on if Stiles suddenly wasn’t there for him anymore. 

The Sheriff and Melissa exchanged glances again. This apathy was getting stronger. If it didn’t go away soon Stiles may end up hurting himself or worse. They swore to themselves that they would not let that happen. 

****And Lydia wants to go to Jackson, she wants to help him, because of course she does. Stiles loses his temper and shouts at her, and now her feelings are hurt and he feels like a piece of shit. Because Lydia was never going to love him. And maybe he was never going to love her, not really, not to _be_ in love with her the way he should be. So when she leaves, he just sits there.** **

****A few minutes later, his father is standing in the doorway. “Sorry, she just . . . she seemed upset. I figured whether I let her in or sent her away, you’d be unhappy, so I made my own call.”** **

****“Yeah, I . . . it’s okay,” Stiles says. “You know, her boyfriend just died, probably, and _she_ doesn’t know that he’s the scum of the earth. Was. Whatever.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “C’mon, Dad, I really don’t want company right now.”** **

****His father lifts his hands in surrender, but says, “Look, kid, I know that I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I just wanted to say . . . I think it was really brave of you to go to the game tonight, after what happened at school. I’m really proud of you. It may not seem like much to you, but I think it makes you a hero.”** **

****Stiles’ gaze slides to the side and he thinks of Gerard, and Erica and Boyd chained up in his basement, and the photograph on his locker, and Lydia’s face as she turned away from him, and all the times over the past six months he’s watched his friends get hurt. “I’m not a hero, dad.”** **

****“Tonight you were.” Sheriff Stilinski squeezes his shoulder and says, “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”** **

****“I’m not a hero,” Stiles mumbles after him, but the inertia is lifting, that crushing weight on his shoulders is getting lighter, just light enough that he thinks he can carry it. He sighs and picks up his shoes. He’s got messages from Scott he needs to read, and a redhead to pick up so she can go save her asshole, lizard monster, rapist ex-boyfriend.** **

The Sheriff felt so proud that something he said had helped Stiles get back to himself. He felt happy knowing Stiles valued him opinion and words so much. 

Everyone in the room felt such awe for the young man they had never realized was so strong. After everything he still didn’t think he was a hero. And yet he was still going to help his rapist because he was doing it for a friend. They could not be so selfless. They would never be half the hero Stiles was and they all knew it. 

****~ ~ ~ ~** **

****Things get pretty chaotic for a little while after that. In the aftermath, they’re left standing around in the warehouse, many of them still trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. Allison’s upset, although she’s keeping it together, and of course Scott is worried about her, and so is Chris, so the three of them wind up going back to the Argent’s house. Jackson and Lydia are going to hug it out, it seems, and Jackson looks so terrified at having been killed several times in one evening that Stiles _almost_ feels a little bad for him. Almost. But not quite.** **

Nobody could really blame Stiles for that. There was a vague feeling of disappointment realizing that Jackson was going to live. Even Lydia and Danny couldn’t deny that he deserved it far more than he deserved to survive. 

****Derek is giving Isaac sympathetic shoulder squeezes because getting stabbed by Chinese ring daggers sucks, Peter has melted back into the shadows whence he came, Gerard has crawled away in a pool of black goo, and Stiles finds that he really just doesn’t care about any of it. As always, Jackson got exactly what he wanted. It might not have worked out perfectly, but he’s a werewolf now, he’s got Lydia, everything’s coming up Whittemore. Stiles is so disgusted that he wants to puke.** **

****“I’m going home,” he announces loudly, then mutters underneath his breath, “not that anyone cares.”** **

****He heads back to his trusty Jeep, which is a little dented but withstood the lizard onslaught fairly well. He gets behind the wheel and drives home. Everyone else can just find their own way home. His dad glances up when he comes in through the front. “How’d it go?” he asks.** **

****Stiles pushes a hand through his hair and says tonelessly, “Okay. Jackson’s gonna make it. They got him resuscitated at the hospital.”** **

****“Oh.” Sheriff Stilinski ponders this for a moment. “How are you feeling?”** **

****Stiles has to think about that for a long minute. “Like I want to eat chocolate pudding and watch Disney movies until I pass out.”** **

The Sheriff let out a sigh of relief. This was a far healthier coping method for his son. And it was wonderful to see his son reconnecting with him after so long of them being so far apart. 

****A slight smile touches his father’s face. “Well, I think that can be arranged.”** **

****There’s a six-pack of chocolate pudding cups in the refrigerator. He and his father split them while they watch Finding Nemo. Stiles falls asleep on the couch and his father tucks a blanket around his shoulders.** **

****~ ~ ~ ~** **

****There’s one thing that Jackson’s _not_ going to get, Stiles decides. He’s not going to get the satisfaction of forcing Stiles out of school and into hiding. ** **

The teenagers gave a little cheer at this. The adults were just happy to see Stiles picking himself up out of his funk. It seemed as though his natural stubbornness was going to help him get back to his daily life. 

****Stiles gets up on the Monday after the lacrosse game, showers, dresses, and goes to school. He doesn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it. If he can handle his own rape, they can damned well handle it, too.** **

Damn straight, seemed to be the prevailing thought in the room. 

****He’s standing at his locker, loading his things back into it, listening to the whispers and giggles around them. For the most part, he’s able to ignore them. His breathing is a little shallow, hands a little shaky, but he tries to convince himself that he’s not on the verge of a panic attack. He can handle this. He _will_ handle this.** **

****Right up until someone grabs his ass and says, “save any of that for me?” and he spins around, nearly falling. An angry protest boils up in his throat, but he shuts it down. What can he possibly say to that?** **

The room was so full of growling, not even all werewolf, that it was hard to hear Erica reading. They all wanted to rip that asshole to pieces and use him for fertilizer. It took several minutes before everyone was quiet enough for Erica to continue reading, her voice tight with fury. 

****Nothing. So nothing is what he says. But he’s surprised when the jerk is promptly grabbed by the collar and shoved up against his own locker by an unexpected knight in green T-shirt. “Dude, _not okay,”_ Danny says. “What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?” He lets the guy go, but then turns to Stiles. “You all right?” he asks.** **

The Sheriff turns to Danny who looks pleased at his book self’s actions and says, “Thank you.” 

Danny flushed a light red but mumbled, “You’re welcome.” 

******“Peachy,” Stiles strangles out, and bolts for the bathroom, just dropping all his things and making a run for it.** ** **

******He winds up having his panic attack in the stall while Danny sits next to him, making him put his head between his knees and talking him through some deep breaths. He wonders what Danny would do or say if he realized that it’s own best friend who’s putting Stiles through this. He can’t even imagine.** ** **

Danny’s fist clenched at the reminder or just who it was that had caused all this pain. 

******Jackson isn’t in school again, and this time neither is Lydia. That’s fine by Stiles. He sits at his usual table at lunch with Scott. Allison’s in school, but she’s avoiding the cafeteria, so it’s just the two of them. Scott is quiet, picking at his food, and when Stiles asks if he’s okay, he says he is. Allison broke up with him, he says, but he knows that it’ll be okay and they’ll make it through this. Stiles tries to look happy for him.** ** **

******“So this whole time, you were planning to have Derek give Gerard the bite,” he finally says, turning his can of soda around in his hands.** ** **

******“Yeah. Pretty clever, huh?”** ** **

******“I guess,” Stiles says, “but it was kind of an asshole thing to do. Why didn’t you tell Derek what you were up to?”** ** **

******Scott’s face gets that confused, angry look that he gets whenever Derek comes up. “He didn’t need to know. And he’s not my alpha.”** ** **

Derek glanced at Scott in disbelief. How had he never realized that Scott could be such an asshole? Usually the boy was so happy-go-lucky, it was a surprise to hear him being such a dick. 

******Stiles sets down the soda. “You do realize that forcing him to do that was a dick move, right?”** ** **

******Scott’s brow furrows. “Why? It all worked out.”** ** **

******Stiles sighs. “Okay. Maybe I’m a little sensitive to general lack of bodily autonomy these days, but you literally used his body to do something that he didn’t want to do. I’m not saying it’s on par to what . . . happened to me, or the fact that Peter turned you without consent, but it was still a dick move. And if there had been some actual _reason_ to keep it from him, that would be one thing, but you kept him out of the loop just because you didn’t feel like including him.”** ** **

Melissa frowned at her son in disapproval. She may not know exactly what had happened but if Stiles was upset she knew Scott must really have screwed up. 

******“It’s not like he always tells us all of his plans,” Scott says, clearly annoyed.** ** **

******“Uh, except that he actually kind of did this time,” Stiles says. “Look, we didn’t _like_ the fact that he was going to kill Lydia because he thought she was the kanima. But he made it pretty fucking clear that he was going to do it. He didn’t tell us he was going to build a pack, but he didn’t hide it from us, either. He worked with us at the rave, at the police station. But you were in the background coming up with this plan and not telling anyone about it. It was a shit thing to do, that’s all.”** ** **

******“Okay, maybe you _are_ oversensitive,” Scott suggests.** ** **

“Scott!” Melissa shouted, outraged. 

Scott shrunk in his seat as 10 pairs of eyes turned to glare at him. 

******Stiles decides that he’s five hundred percent done with Scott McCall for the day.** ** **

Scott whimpered, even more upset with himself than before. 

******“Yeah,” he says. “That’s gotta be it.” He flips his soda can into the trash. “I’m going home.”** ** **

******“Now? There’s still three more periods – ”** ** **

******“Yeah, but there’s an assembly last period that I’m not interested in,” Stiles says. “Specifically, the ‘let’s gather all the kiddies and tell them about sexting laws in explicit detail so they know that possessing naked pictures of another teenager is a crime’ assembly. I plan on being in a different galaxy by the time that shit goes down.”** ** **

******“Oh,” Scott says. “Okay. I’ll see you later, I guess.”** ** **

******“Sure,” Stiles says, although he’s pissed enough that he really has no interest in seeing Scott for a while. He texts his father to let him know that he’s leaving school a little early, so he won’t worry if the school calls him.** ** **

******He’s halfway home when he changes his mind about his destination. What’s he going to do at home, sit around and eat more pudding? After a few minutes to think, sitting at a stop sign, he dials Derek.** ** **

******“What?” Derek asks, which is how he always picks up.** ** **

******“Hey,” Stiles says. “Can we talk? In person?”** ** **

******“Why?” Derek asks. “The show’s over, remember?”** ** **

******Stiles sighs. “Maybe I just want to say something to your face like a mature human being. Did that occur to you?”** ** **

******“No,” Derek says, and hangs up. Stiles is about to grind his teeth in frustration, but then he gets a text. It’s an address. He puts in his GPS and starts driving again.** ** **

******It takes him about fifteen minutes to drive to the far side of town and park outside a large brick building. He sees the Camaro, so he ventures into the building and up the broad staircase that leads to the second floor. There’s a sliding metal door, which is ajar, so he knocks on it.** ** **

******Derek walks up a minute later. He looks tired, rumpled and unshaven, dressed in a gray V-neck and black jeans. “Okay,” he says, “what do you want?”** ** **

******Stiles sighs. He doesn’t blame Derek for being hostile. “I just wanted to tell you . . . I didn’t know what Scott was planning. He didn’t tell me. If he had, I would’ve told him not to be a dick about it.”** ** **

******Derek studies him in silence for a minute. Then he stands back from the door. “Come on in.”** ** **

******Stiles does. He looks around the loft, which is almost entirely empty. There are some boxes piled up on one side of the room. “New digs, huh?”** ** **

******“Yeah, just signed the lease today,” Derek says. “I need to get some furniture and stuff.”** ** **

******“So . . . you’re settling in,” Stiles says. That makes him happy, although he couldn’t really say why. He always hated the idea of Derek living in the rundown old Hale house. “Cool. I know a good consignment shop or two.”** ** **

******“I was thinking I would just hit up IKEA – ”** ** **

“IKEA is for thee weak!” Stiles shouted. 

>Everyone jumped and looked around for the source of the sound. It was gone so fast though nobody could really tell where it came from. 

Derek was amused that the first time anyone heard anything from Stiles, the actual real Stiles who was in the weird place with them, it was so he could mock Derek’s choices. That was so Stiles. 

******“Dude,” Stiles says, “no. I don’t want to see a werewolf trying to assemble furniture. C’mon. I’ll drive. The Jeep has a trailer hitch.”** ** **

******Derek studies him for a moment. “Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”** ** **

******“I’m ditching,” Stiles says. “Who wants to sit around and watch Lydia and Jackson make cow eyes at each other, or hear Scott talk about Allison, Allison, Allison? Nope. I’d much rather go furniture shopping with you. What does that say about the state of my life?”** ** **

******Derek gives him a smack upside the head which doesn’t hurt at all. “Don’t be an asshole.” But he follows Stiles out of the loft and down to the Jeep.** ** **

******“Hey, did you get Erica and Boyd out okay?” Stiles asks, as he backs out of the parking lot.** ** **

******“Chris let them go,” Derek says, staring out the window, “but they didn’t make it back here. I don’t know where they went. They said they were leaving, but . . .”** ** **

Erica and Boyd looked at Chris out of the corners of their eyes and mumbled a quiet little “thanks.” 

Chris just nodded to them. He knew they hadn’t done anything to deserve to be captured. 

******“Leaving? Why?”** ** **

******“Because nobody gave them a good reason to stick around,” Derek replies, his voice short and angry. Stiles thinks of about a million things he could say in reply to that, but in the end decides it’s more sensible to keep his opinions to himself. Derek might not be the best alpha, but he still thinks that running was the wrong answer. “Peter thinks the alpha pack has them.”** ** **

******“Ah, yes. Peter.” Stiles thinks that over. “Wait, what? An alpha pack?”** ** **

******“Yeah. Don’t ask questions because I don’t have answers.”** ** **

******“Okay,” Stiles says, “I won’t. Yet. But Peter. How’d _that_ happen? Last time I saw him, he was pretty dead.”** ** **

******Derek’s jaw tightens. “Something about Lydia’s immunity gave him the ability to use her as a puppet to do a spell to bring him back.”** ** **

******“Wow,” Stiles says. “I guess that’s part of why she was acting so fucking weird,” he adds. “Lack of agency seems to be a real theme we’ve got going on here.”** ** **

******“What?” Derek asks.** ** **

I don’t know. Derek realized suddenly. The only people he really interacted with were his pack, Scott and Stiles. Isaac wouldn’t think to mention it, Erica and Boyd were gone and it wasn’t like Scott and he were on speaking terms. And of course Stiles wasn’t going to tell him. 

******“Nothing. Never mind.”** ** **

******Surprisingly, they manage to make a decent afternoon out of it. They head for the U-Haul place and get a trailer to attach to the Jeep, then go looking for furniture. Stiles doesn’t think it’s the _first_ time he’s been in Derek’s presence when there weren’t death-defying catastrophes going on, but it’s the first time they’ve done it for more than five minutes. It’s nice to just hang out, to talk about inconsequential things like movies or sports. And it’s nice to spend time with someone who _doesn’t_ know what happened between him and Jackson, where there isn’t that awkwardness between them, that weird hovering state between pity and embarrassment.** ** **

******Derek has a lot of books, so they get two nice bookshelves, a table and chairs, and a bed that has to be broken down into several pieces to fit in the trailer. Derek becomes strangely attached to this weird blue velour sofa that Stiles thinks is hideous but can’t talk him out of buying.** ** **

******They’re unloading the trailer when his phone chirps. He glances down to see that he has a text message from an unknown number. Despite his misgivings, he pulls it up, and he’s not surprised to see a message that reads, ‘great assembly, but 1 question, do those sexting laws apply to sluts like u?’** ** **

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with people?” Danny says. Nobody answers him but it looks like everyone in the room wondered the exact same thing. The Sheriff looked absolutely murderous. 

Stile sighed from his hiding spot. So it begins. 

******He deletes it without replying, obviously, but then sees Derek giving him a questioning look. “Just a text ad,” he says. Derek frowns slightly but doesn’t argue. His phone chirps again. He surreptitiously turns it off.** ** **

******Derek really doesn’t have _anything_ for his apartment, so they follow up the consignment store with a trip to the Good Will, where he buys some cookware and linens. “Don’t you have, like, a lot of money?” Stiles asks, as he puts towels in their cart.** ** **

******“Yeah,” Derek says, “but there’s no point in spending a lot on this sort of stuff. I’ll save it for things that matter.”** ** **

******That makes sense to Stiles. They add an old television and DVD player to their list of purchases.** ** **

******It’s nearly five when they finish up, and now it’s Derek’s phone that rings. He looks at the screen and sighs. “Stiles, why is Scott calling me?”** ** **

******“How should I know?” Stiles asks, grunting as he tries to get all their bags in one trip.** ** **

******“Give me those before you hurt yourself,” Derek says, grabbing them. Then he answers the phone one-handed. “What? . . . yeah. He’s with me. Why?” There’s another pause, then he says to Stiles, “Scott says you aren’t answering your phone.”** ** **

******“Oh?” Stiles pretends to look at it. “Battery must’ve gone dead.”** ** **

******Derek gives him another somewhat suspicious look, but relays this to Scott. Then he sighs. “He says your father is looking for you.”** ** **

******“Shit,” Stiles says. He should have thought of the fact that his father might get worried when he didn’t see him at the assembly. “Okay, I’ll call him, thanks.”** ** **

******“He’s been informed,” Derek says into the phone, then jabs the button to end the call with prejudice. But he gives Stiles a curious look. “Are you avoiding Scott?”** ** **

******“Yeah, a little,” Stiles says.** ** **

******“Because of what happened at the warehouse? With me?”** ** **

******“Because of a lot of reasons,” Stiles says. He turns his phone back on and ignores the twelve new text messages. “Hey, Dad. No, I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t . . . yeah. I’ll be home soon.” He says goodbye and hangs up. “He’s just been worried about me, you know, since that night at the police station.”** ** **

******Derek nods and doesn’t ask any further questions. Stiles wants to hug him a little for not pushing the issue. They get all their purchases unloaded, and Stiles helps him get things set up in the kitchen. It’s a bachelor’s kitchen, with a microwave, toaster, blender, and not much else. There’s a rapping on the door as Derek is juggling a handful of pots and pans. “Want me to – ” Stiles says.** ** **

******“Yeah, thanks,” Derek says, so Stiles jogs over to the door. He pulls it open to reveal Jackson standing there. Despite his best effort, he takes a step backwards. Jackson smirks at him.** ** **

******“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks.** ** **

******“Derek’s my alpha now,” Jackson says, as if Stiles should have realized this. “Hey, great assembly today. I didn’t see you there.”** ** **

******Stiles has to swallow hard before he can speak, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything, because Derek comes out of the kitchen with that same puzzled frown. Stiles knows that he’s heard the way his heartbeat skyrocketed, but when he sees Jackson, the confusion clears off his face. Of course, Derek is coming to the wrong conclusions – the conclusion that Stiles would be afraid of Jackson because of everything he did as the kanima – but Stiles much prefers that to the accurate conclusions.** ** **

******“It’s okay, I invited him,” he says to Stiles. “He’s got a lot of work to do, learning control over the shift and everything.”** ** **

******“Oh,” Stiles says. “Right. Because he’s a werewolf now. Just like he wanted.”** ** **

******Jackson just smirks at him. “I guess some of us are born lucky.”** ** **

Danny looked heartbroken. “He really doesn’t care at all. I knew he was an asshole but since when was he such a monster?”  
Nobody had an answer for him. They all felt a little bad that such a nice guy was having to come to terms with his best friend being a despicable person. 

******“Nice display of remorse over all the people you killed, too,” Stiles says, fists clenching at his sides, aiming below the belt even though he _knows_ that wasn’t Jackson’s fault.** ** **

******“Hey,” Derek says, getting between them. “I’m not going to ask you two to get along. But I am going to ask you to keep it civil.”** ** **

******“Whatever you say, O Alpha,” Stiles says. “I’ve got to head home anyway.”** ** **

******He goes out to the Jeep and drives back to the house. He’s glad to see that the house is empty. He checks his text messages – there are fifteen now – and what he sees makes him thoroughly understand the girls who have killed themselves in the wake of similar situations. Two are from his father and there’s another from Scott, but the rest are general solicitations or insults. Several people are laughing that he had his father step in to give the lecture on sexting laws. One of them makes a lewd comment about the sheriff and his familiarity with the issue that nearly makes Stiles break his phone. But the last is the worst, the one suggesting a different position next time because he ‘really doesn’t look like he’s having fun’ in the picture.** ** **

“I’ll kill those little bastards,” the Sheriff raged. Everyone looked disgusted at what was happening. These were people they knew, how could they treat Stiles’ rape like a _joke?_ What on earth could possible make them think that something about the situation was funny? Didn’t they realize Stiles was having a hard enough time without them making I even worse? 

******Sheriff Stilinski comes home to find Stiles throwing up in the bathroom. He sits with him for a while, but Stiles has deleted the text messages and won’t tell him what they said. The last thing he needs is his father coming down as the arm of the law and trying to stop what can’t be stopped. It will only make things worse.** ** **

******“Let’s call and see if we can get your number changed,” he says quietly, when it becomes clear that Stiles won’t budge on the matter.** ** **

******Stiles isn’t sure that will help, either, but he understands that his father needs to do _something,_ so he agrees. They get him a new number and then his father gets Thai food for dinner and they watch a movie together, and eventually, he manages to fall asleep.** ** **

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” the Sheriff muttered, easily heard by the entire room. 

“Me either,” Scott said. 

“I don’t think I could be that strong,” Isaac admitted, drawing everyone’s attention. 

Erica seemed to understand, “Me either. I was always so humiliated whenever I found a video of one of my seizures. But no one ever went around and harassed me about them. I used to hurt myself because I felt so awful and worthless and I always thought ‘Death could not possibly be as horrible as getting up and facing another day of people pointing and laughing.’ If something like this had happened to me, I know I would not still be here.” 

Boyd wrapped his arms around the trembling girl and it was clear that nobody knew quite how to handle her confession. Stiles actually wanted to come out to give his Catwoman some comfort but he could not make himself move. 

Melissa took the book from Erica and decided to start the next chapter while Erica drew some much needed comfort from her boyfriend. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I kinda fell into the Glee fandom and it's taken me a while to surface. Plus it's actually a real pain to do these on this sight. You have to do this weird to do italics and to bold and then there's stuff for paragraph breaks and it always defaults wrong and it's a huge pain to do. Enjoy!

**It takes the bullies three days to get Stiles’ new number. He’s not sure how they do it. He suspects that someone merely waited until he wasn’t looking and snagged the phone from his backpack, looking up the number and then replacing it. All he knows is that the messages resume on Thursday evening. He doesn’t say anything to his father about it.**

“Dammit Stiles,” the Sheriff sighed. Why couldn’t his kid just let him help?

**There isn’t a lot of the school year left at this point – only a couple months – so he’ll just have to handle it. But everywhere he goes, there are stares and giggles and whispered remarks. Sometimes hands, too. He does his best to ignore it.**

**It’s his father who keeps him going during all of this,**

The Sheriff beamed, overjoyed to know he had been able to help Stiles when he so badly needed it.

**because every morning, when Stiles drags himself out of bed after six hours of restless sleep and nightmares, and stares into the refrigerator, he can see his father watching him. They don’t talk about it, but he knows that his father is proud of him, that his father thinks he’s unbelievably strong, for the way he keeps going with his head held high, no matter what everyone throws at him.**

**The only time they talk about it is when Sheriff Stilinski sits down with him the day after the assembly and says, “You should see a doctor.”**

**Stiles looks at the floor, shoulders hunching up. He wants to argue, but he knows his father is right. There are things he should be tested for. If Jackson was willing to rape him, there might have been others. It’s occurred to him in the past, but the idea made his stomach clench, so he’s put it out of his mind as much as possible.**

**Taking Stiles’ silence as agreement, his father says, “I’ve made you an appointment. It’s at a clinic in Sacramento. I know it’s a bit of a drive, but I figured you’d prefer to go somewhere out of town.”**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Thanks.”**

**His father reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Friday after school. Okay?”**

**“Okay,” Stiles says.**

**Things between him and Scott become awkward quickly. Scott wants to talk about what’s going on, but he doesn’t know how. So instead he talks about Allison. Stiles knows that his pain is real, he respects that, but it seems so paltry compared to his own. He just can’t be interested. So they try to talk about the random shit that they’ve always talked about, but every conversation is awkward, stilted, filled with silences that contain too much that can’t be discussed. It gradually becomes a wedge between them. He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how.**

Scott looked so devastated that Melissa reached over and hugged him to her tightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you the right way to talk about stuff like this, okay? And then you and Stiles can sit down and really talk.”

Scott sniffed, trying not to cry. He nodded tightly and gave his mother a squeeze in gratitude.

**His safe place quickly becomes Derek’s loft. Derek doesn’t know what happened to him. He might be the only person in Beacon Hills who doesn’t, for that matter. So it’s the only place Stiles can go where it isn’t an elephant in the room. The relief is incredible. Derek’s ignorance becomes a shield that Stiles can hold between him and the world.**

Derek smirked a little. To think, his mother used to tell him that he needed to be more sociable and that being introverted didn’t help anybody. Trust Stiles to be the one to prove the Great Talia Hale wrong.

**Sometimes Isaac is there in the afternoons, but the curly-haired teenager never brings it up, never says anything about it. And after that first time, Derek makes sure that Stiles and Jackson are never at the loft at the same time.**

**He buys a white board and they start doing research. Peter knows the origins of the alpha pack, and after equal parts flattery and threats, they get him to tell them about it. Stiles starts collecting as much data as he can on the werewolves who have come to town. His father helps keep him plugged in, too, because by this point Erica and Boyd both have official missing persons cases open. The assumption of the police is that they ran away together.**

**Stiles isn’t one hundred percent sure that’s not true, but Peter and Derek found physical evidence that the two teenagers had had a close encounter with the alpha pack that had led to a brief struggle. The odds seem to point in the direction of an abduction. But Stiles can’t figure out what the alpha pack would even want with Erica and Boyd. He writes ‘WHY?’ at the top of the whiteboard in large letters.**

**“That’s a good question,” Derek says on one of the late spring afternoons. “Why are you helping me? I’m not your alpha, remember?”**

Yes! Derek sat up a little straighter. He’d been wondering that and now he would finally get an answer. Glancing around the room he could see that he hadn’t been the only one. Scott looked just as desperate to know as well.

**“You’re not Scott’s alpha,” Stiles says, studying the whiteboard. He hears Derek’s sharp intake of breath. “I never said you weren’t mine.”**

Derek’s chest felt tight. He had tried to ignore it but he hadn’t been able to avoid noticing that his whole pack, minus Isaac, had rejected him. Scott had fought him every step of the way, Jackson wouldn’t be alive much longer, Erica and Boyd had run away, but Stiles, easily the smartest of the entire lot, was _choosing_ him. 

Erica and Boyd wilted a little seeing how happy Derek was knowing that Stiles wanted him. They had known, some part of them, that he really had been trying his best and that they were hurting him by leaving. 

Scott felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He knew he wasn’t the brightest guy, he tended to be a little naïve and oblivious, so he often depended on Stiles to figure out how to act or feel. Stiles was much more observant than most people realized and he had a way of seeing everything a person ever tried to hide. This meant if he was wary of someone Scott usually listened, when Stiles trusted someone Scott trusted them too. When had that stopped being true? Scott wondered. Stiles had been so leery of the entire Argent family and Scott had ignored him and look how that had ended up. Victoria, Kate and Gerard were all bat crap crazy, Stiles had known the whole time and Scott had been so blindsided by it because at some point he and Stiles had fallen out of sync. Well that certainly needed to change.

**There’s a silence so long that he thinks Derek won’t reply. But then he just says, “Thanks.”**

**Stiles nods a little. “Yeah. No problem.”**

**His testing all comes back clean, which is a big enough relief that he and his father get cheeseburgers to celebrate. It’s a little morbid, he thinks, a ‘hooray you didn’t catch STDs when you got raped’ party, but he’s got little enough reason to celebrate lately. He’ll take what he can get.**

**A fun new game starts at school. People start trying to guess the identity of the faceless figure in the photographs with Stiles. Lydia’s parties are big events, so there are a lot of options. People start photoshopping various faces into the photograph and then sending it to Stiles with ‘yes or no?’ attached. Stiles handles that for the first few days, but then someone guesses Scott, and he spends half an hour being sick in the bathroom.**

“What the fuck is wrong with teenagers?” Derek asked looking thoroughly disgusted.

The sheriff had never been so livid. How dare these little bastards make a game of his son’s violent assault. There was not a damn thing funny about being raped, how was this even a game? Where was the amusement in something like that?

**He doesn’t know what to do about it, beyond ignoring it. Then he gets an unexpected opportunity, because someone guesses Danny. It’s a terrible photoshop job; for one thing, Jackson and Danny’s skin tones are nothing alike. But he takes it and finds Danny in the locker room after school, getting ready for cross country practice.**

Danny looked confused. “Why is my picture an opportunity?”

Lydia looked at him, “Because you can get them to stop.” 

Everyone looked at her then, how would Danny stop them when the Sheriff hadn’t been able to?

“They don’t care about upsetting Stiles and he won’t punish them for it. You will make whoever did that’s life a living hell. No one will be willing to subject themselves to your retribution. Besides, everyone knows that messing with you is messing with me. And no one is willing to risk _my_ wrath.”

**“Hey,” he says, “can you do me a favor?”**

**“What’s up?” Danny asks. They’re not friends, not exactly, but he’s always been quick to shut down anyone catcalling at Stiles in the hallway.**

**“Look, uh . . . you’ve had my back during all this and I’m super grateful,” Stiles says, “and I don’t want you to risk your status as insanely popular jock or anything, but I . . . figured you would want to know about this. Brace yourself,” he adds, and then pulls the photo up on his phone.**

**Danny’s eyes go wide. “Fucking _shit,”_ he says, and Stiles can’t help but laugh a little. “Who did that?” **

**“I don’t know. I get three or four of them a day. People have guessed everyone from you to the freakin’ Pope. It’s like . . . a game to them.”**

**“Well, where’d the photo come from?” Danny asks, so Stiles pulls up the message and Danny looks at the number. He leafs through the list on his own phone for a minute before saying, “Oh, yeah, Mike Wiemer. Okay. I’ll handle it.”**

The Sheriff and Scott turned to Danny and thanked him. He tried to brush it off, say something like “Anyone would have done it” but stopped himself. If this story was doing anything it was proving that no people would not offer help when someone needed it. They’d rather make things worse for the sake of some twisted entertainment. 

“Your welcome. I really wish I could do more,” he said. It bothered him that something so small and simple was more help than most people were offering.

**Stiles breathes out slowly. “Thanks. I mean. I don’t, I just . . .”**

**“Dude,” Danny says, and squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”**

**Stiles nods. “Thanks.”**

**“And . . . if you want to talk . . . I mean . . .” Danny sighs. “Jesus, Stiles, why _haven’t_ you told anyone who did this? Your dad, at least, he’s gotta know, right?” **

**“No proof,” Stiles says, and lifts his hands in surrender. “He said, he said. Not eager to go there.”**

**“I guess I can understand that,” Danny says. “I just, can it get worse than this?” he asks, gesturing to the picture on Stiles’ phone.**

**Stiles can’t help it. He laughs. “Oh, Danny boy,” he says, “welcome to my life, where things can _always_ get worse.” **

“How?” Scott asks. “What could possibly be worse?”

Nobody answered, all caught up in their own imaginations of what an already bad situation might escalate to.

**Danny grimaces but doesn’t argue. But the photos stop, or at least the photoshopped versions of them do.**

**A week later, Scott catches up with him as he’s leaving school. “Hey,” he says, “did you hear? About Jackson?”**

**“Jesus, what now,” Stiles says.**

**“He’s leaving,” Scott says. “I guess his parents are sending him to London to, I don’t know, recover from nearly dying and all. They’ve got him enrolled in a fancy private school there and everything. I heard about it from Lydia.”**

Derek frowned. At least Jackson was leaving. He’d still prefer him to be dead but at least now Stiles wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him all the time. If not for the photos being leaked it might have been the end of Stiles’ troubles. But no, the asshole had to ensure that someone would be continuing his campaign of terror against the boy.

**“Oh,” Stiles says. He hasn’t talked to Lydia since the night they turned the kanima into a werewolf. Sometimes he sees her looking at him like she wants to say something, but she obviously has no idea what to say, and neither does he. “Well. That’s . . . great. Or something.”**

**“Well, it’s good that he won’t be able to bother you anymore,” Scott says.**

**“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, not bothering to point out that Jackson doesn’t need to. What he’s set in motion won’t be stopped by his departure. Stiles will forever be the party boy who doesn’t know how to loosen up and have a good time, according to his latest text message.**

“I hate him for doing this.” Lydia said. “He had _no right_ and he just keeps finding ways to make it worse. I didn’t think I could hate him any more after finding out what he did but somehow it just keeps getting worse.”

Danny wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He knew exactly what she meant. He had once thought that there was nothing Jackson could do that would make him not want to be friends any longer. That had all changed when he learned what he’d done to Stiles. And even then he had thought, what could be worse that finding out his best friend was a rapist? But seeing how Jackson keeps doing more and more to torture the pale boy he keeps getting more and more disgusted. It doesn’t feel like it should be possible to hate the boy more than he does in this moment but he can’t help but suspect that it will get worse. He glanced around the room, looking at Stiles’ friends and family. He doesn’t belong here. He had never been friends with Stiles, hell he had been Jackson’s _best friend_ what right does he have to listen to this?

**He finds out from Derek that afternoon that he’s made arrangements for Jackson to join a local pack. Stiles wants to be pissed off about it, but he isn’t. He doesn’t care what happens to Jackson. The damage is done. He’ll undoubtedly be happy on the other side of the pond. It doesn’t matter where he goes; his life will always be better than Stiles’.**

**~ ~ ~ ~**

**“Son,” Sheriff Stilinski says, looking at the photographs tacked up all over Stiles’ walls, “I understand the need to distract yourself. I truly do. But what in the _hell_ is all this?” **

**“Just, uh, you know,” Stiles says. “Following leads. Erica and Boyd.”**

**His father leans against the door jam and analyzes this for a few minutes. “I never heard you mention either of them before they went missing. Now you’re suddenly obsessed with finding them. What gives?”**

**“Am I not allowed to be worried about kids my age who went missing?” Stiles asks.**

**“Of course you are,” Stilinski says. “Am I not allowed to know my own son well enough to realize that has nothing to do with what’s going on?”**

Stiles smiled. He really loved his dad.

**Stiles stares at the missing posters tacked on his wall in silence. His father lets out a slow sigh and walks in to sit down on the edge of Stiles’ bed.**

**“Jackson leaves next week,” he says.**

**“Yep,” Stiles says.**

**“Are you rethinking your decision about pressing charges?” Stilinski asks. “It’s going to be your last chance.”**

**“Nope,” Stiles says. He pushes this aside. “C’mon, Dad, share. If you’ve got leads, share.”**

Sheriff Stilinski rubs a hand over the back of his head. “I don’t. They may as well have vanished into thin air. Nobody’s even really sure of the last time they saw them. Their attendance was patchy in the last few weeks before their disappearance, although their parents didn’t seem aware of that fact. The last time anyone can say for _sure_ that they saw them was the day of that big lacrosse game. Both their parents say they saw them that morning. Boyd’s parents say everything was normal. Erica’s say that she’d been going through some big changes lately. Started dressing different, et cetera.” 

**“Probably because she started dating Boyd, right?” Stiles says, since he wants to steer his father away from werewolf conclusions.**

The Sheriff sighed. It was great that Stiles seemed to be doing better and wasn’t still stuck in the apathy that had been consuming him but did that have to mean going back to the lies? If there was one thing he would have liked to be a result of this whole… _mess_ it would have been Stiles opening up to him and no longer hiding things. 

**Sheriff Stilinski nods. “Yeah, that’s my assumption. She didn’t bring any of her meds with her when she left, though. Now, her parents say that she wasn’t always compliant with them, but she’s been gone three weeks now. If she cut them cold turkey, odds are good she would have wound up in a hospital somewhere. So where is she getting them?”**

**“Maybe she stockpiled them,” Stiles says. “If she was planning to leave. You know, like . . . skip a day or two here and there, never enough to have really adverse effects, but enough that she could put some aside, lay in a supply.”**

**“Like a certain someone does with their Adderall?” Stilinski says. ******

**Stiles just shrugs a little. He can’t tell his father that Erica just flat out doesn’t need the medication anymore, so he’ll go with what works. “Either way, neither of them came from money, right? So if they just took off, where’d they get the cash?”**

**“Parents say none of them are missing money,” Stilinski agrees. “I don’t know, kid. I admit that the possibility that they ran away together is the most logical, but something about it smells wrong to me.”**

 

**“Yeah, but who would kidnap a seventeen year old black male who weighed almost two hundred pounds?” Stiles asks. “He doesn’t exactly scream ‘victim’. And I can’t imagine many kidnappers go for two kids together. That’s got to be a hell of a lot harder than just snatching one.”**

**Stilinski nods. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m missing something.”**

**“I hear ya,” Stiles says, looking at his pictures. He still can’t figure out why the alpha pack would want Erica and Boyd. Hell, he can’t even figure out why the alpha pack is _in town._ What could they want in Beacon Hills? **

**“Look, if this Deucalion guy is the leader,” he says several days later to Derek, “and he formed the alpha pack because he was pissed at what Gerard did to him, you’d think he was after Gerard, right? But Gerard’s dead.”**

**“Presumably,” Peter interjects.**

**“Presumably,” Stiles agrees. “In any case, it’s not like having Erica and Boyd are going to help him with that.”**

**“Maybe he’s recruiting,” Derek says.**

**“No offense, Derek,” Peter says, “but if he wanted to round up some alphas to take on the hunters, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t start with you.”**

 

Derek sighed. On the one hand, he really wasn’t looking forward to having Peter in his life again. On the other hand, this kind of snark sounded more like what he remembered of Peter from before the fire. Could he handle having his favorite uncle back knowing that, even if he had been out of his mind at the time, he had killed Laura? 

**Derek flips him off.**

Derek snorted. Apparently that answered _that_ question.

**“Proximity,” Stiles says. “The hunters are here. Derek is here. And Derek’s got reason to have a beef against the hunters, too. So Derek is a reasonable enough prospect. But if that’s what they want, why not approach like allies? You know, knock on the door and say, ‘hey, you hate hunters, we hate hunters, let’s go have a fun time and murder them together’?”**

 

**“Deucalion is a psychopath?” Peter suggests.**

**“Takes one to know one,” Isaac chips in.**

**Peter gives him an offended look. “I beg your pardon. I am not a psychopath. I have narcissistic personality disorder and PTSD.”**

**“Really?” Stiles asked. “I would’ve pegged you for dissociative identity disorder, although I suppose there’s no solid evidence that such a thing actually exists.”**

**Derek sighs heavily. “Can we get back to the point? Stiles is right. Even if Deucalion wants to use Erica and Boyd as leverage to get me to work with him, why has he held them for weeks without approaching me in any way?”**

**“Maybe it was a crime of opportunity,” Peter suggests. “Erica and Boyd stumbled into their hands. They’ve restrained them but haven’t decided what to do with them yet.”**

Scott blinked. “Whoa,” he said, catching everybody’s attention. Noticing everyone looking at him he blushed. “What?” he said defensively. “We never really talked to Peter when he was alive so I never noticed before but he sounds a lot like Stiles.”

Everyone stared at him and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little affronted at being compared to the creep who had tried to force Scott to kill them all.

Unexpectedly, Derek was the one to chip in. “I know what you mean, they are very similar. They are both really snarky and rely more on their wits than their strength. And god are they smart. They both have this way of just…knowing so much more than you. They are also both…I hesitate to say ruthless but at the same time Stiles is. He set Peter on fire and he meant it. But one thing Stiles is that Peter has never been and will never be is compassionate.”

Everyone looked rather thoughtful at that and Stiles felt touched by Derek’s assessment of his character.

**Stiles blinks. “That . . . actually sounds pretty reasonable,” he says. “Especially since Erica and Boyd were planning on leaving town. If either of them told Deucalion that, he may assume that Derek doesn’t even realize they’ve been abducted. So he’ll just hang onto them until he figures out how he use them to his benefit.”**

**“That’s good, isn’t it?” Isaac says, tentatively. “I mean, we’re one step ahead of him, if he doesn’t know that we know.”**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I think we’re going about this all wrong. I don’t think we should be looking for Erica and Boyd. Let the police handle that. We should be looking for Deucalion.”**

**“That sounds grand in theory,” Peter says, “but I don’t know how you’re going to put it into practice.”**

**“Look, he doesn’t live in a vacuum,” Stiles says. “He has to sleep, probably with a roof over his head. He has to eat. You said you knew what he looked like, that you met him once or twice when he was in town last time. If you could sit down with a sketch artist – ”**

**Peter gives him an incredulous look. “I don’t recall being on particularly good terms with the Beacon Hills Police Department.”**

**“All your murders were pinned on Kate,” Stiles reminds him.**

**A slight smile crosses Peter’s face. “Now that is karmic justice at its finest,” he says, “but I’m still not walking into the police department and offering to sketch a man who I can’t explain why he’s involved.”**

**“Then let me,” Derek says. “Share the memory with me. I’ll do it. I’ll say I saw someone matching Erica’s description with another man. Or two. I can give them sketches of Deucalion, Ennis, and Kali – those are the three you met, right? And then the entire police department of Beacon Hills will be looking for them. Even if that doesn’t get us anywhere, it may step on Deucalion’s toes enough to force him into making a move.”**

“You can do that?” The Sheriff said. “Share memories?”

“Sort of.” Derek said. “Alpha’s can access memories, my mother could manipulate and erase them. I don’t know if Peter, a _former_ could still do it. And it can be dangerous. It involved claws in the spine, it can go very wrong if you aren’t being careful.

**“Because that always works out so well for you,” Peter says, rolling his eyes.**

**Stiles gives him a hard look, then suddenly grins.**

 

**“What are you smiling about?” Peter asks.**

**“Oh, I was just suddenly remembering the time I set you on fire,” Stiles says casually. “Good times, right?”**  
Everyone snorted. Derek looked particularly amused as did the Sheriff. Ah, Stiles.

**Peter narrows his eyes.**

**“Play nice, kids,” Derek says.**

**Stiles doesn’t want to play nice. He values Peter’s intellect, and he understands why Derek is keeping him around. But he doesn’t trust him, and every time he thinks of what Peter did to Lydia, he wants to stab him a few dozen times.**

Derek again felt impressed by Stiles’ practicality. There aren’t very many people who can force themselves to work with people they truly dislike and Stiles wasn’t even being forced to do so. He was choosing to do it for the sake of the pack.

**School ends, which is a huge relief. Scott is in summer school, and he’s on a campaign to ‘better’ himself, so he’s taking some online courses too, and working a lot, saving up for a dirt bike. Avoiding him is easy for Stiles. They text back and forth but rarely see each other. He hates the way Scott looks at him now, like he’s something broken, someone that has to be handled with care. It’s not Scott’s fault. He doesn’t think that he would react any better if their situations were reversed. But he just can’t stand being around him, not yet.**  
Scott looked heartbroken at that. Melissa wrapped an arm around him and pulled him to her, cradling him even as she continued to read, trying to offer him any comfort she could.

**The day after Jackson leaves, Derek goes down to the station and says he thinks he saw Erica with a man down at the mall. After some debate, they decided to have Peter share his memories with both Derek and Isaac, and they would give descriptions of Deucalion and Kali. Peter mentions that the sheriff met Ennis, so they decide to steer clear of him, lest Sheriff Stilinski get suspicious about what’s going on. Since Derek and Isaac have no connection on the surface, it won’t seem like they were plotting things together.**

“Criminal mastermind,” the Sheriff muttered.

**Naturally, the police station reacts with enthusiasm to their first real lead. They run the sketches through facial recognition, although there are no hits, and everyone in Beacon Hills is on the lookout. Stiles reacts with some satisfaction, even though it doesn’t get them anywhere. He’s getting better at the detective stuff, and at least something is happening.**

**It’s shaping up to be a quiet summer, at least socially. Allison’s gone. Jackson’s gone. Scott’s immersed in his own stuff. Stiles spends the days at Derek’s loft. Sometimes they talk about Erica and Boyd or the alpha pack. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they watch movies or play video games. Isaac’s in and out, but he seems to come more out of obligation than because he wants to be there, even though he’s sleeping in the upstairs room. Peter shows up occasionally to drop cryptic hints or annoying remarks before he fucks off again.**

**“If I’m like . . . pissing you off coming around all the time, just . . . let me know,” Stiles says to Derek as summer heads into its second week.**

**“It’s fine,” is all Derek says in response. It seems a little crazy to Stiles, especially given how antagonistic their relationship has been in the past, but Derek actually seems to enjoy having him around. It occurs to him for the first time that Derek is probably lonely. He came from a big family, surrounded by a huge pack. And then, even though they were gone, he had at least had Laura. Since her death, he’s really had no one. His efforts to build a pack fell into ruin around him, and it was only half his fault. So Stiles finds himself glad to be there, to keep Derek company, to talk about books and places they’ve been, stories they haven’t heard before.**

The pack all flinched. They had all been so caught up in themselves and their own problems that they’d never even considered what they might be doing to Derek. Erica and Boyd looked down in guilt. Yeah leaving had seemed like the right choice but what must that have felt like to Derek? And Scott was constantly rejecting Derek even when the guy really was making an effort to work together with him.

Derek’s breath caught. He suddenly understood why he and Stiles were being thrown together so much, why he felt so much towards the kid. Mates. How had he not noticed sooner?

**The police department gets a tip that a couple matching Erica and Boyd’s description has been seen in San Francisco. It could be a mistake, Isaac says, but Stiles thinks the alpha pack called it in. “The police were getting too close,” he says.**

**Derek feels compelled to check it out anyway, so they drive down to San Francisco and look around the area that they were supposedly seen. He can’t catch either of their scents, and he doesn’t feel anything through the pack bonds that join them together – not that he necessarily would, he says, since Erica and Boyd left his pack voluntarily.**

**“Well, we might as well go see some sights while we’re here,” Stiles says. Derek gives him a politely incredulous look, but Stiles talks him into going to the beach and to Chinatown to get some lunch. “You lived in New York, right?” he asks. “Do you miss the city?”**

**“No,” Derek says, “I hated it. It made me claustrophobic. Most werewolves don’t like living in cities.”**

**“I think I could like it,” Stiles says. “Getting lost in the . . . the anonymity.”**

**Since school has gotten out, he had thought things would get better, but he can’t go anywhere without at least a few people whispering and staring. Everyone in town knows (except Derek, who’s the world’s biggest hermit), even the adults. They look on him with pity, or disgust, depending on which version of the story they’ve gotten. The teenagers are still just laughing at him. If it weren’t for Derek’s loft, he probably wouldn’t ever leave the house anymore.**

Scott and Melissa felt a pang of hurt when they realized that Stiles no longer considered their house a refuge. Scott felt even worse knowing that he was the reason for that.

**They eat noodles and go see the buffalo and then head back to Beacon Hills. Stiles falls asleep on the ride back, feeling comfortable and relaxed. He wakes up when Derek shakes him, parked outside the loft. It’s late. “Do you want to . . . come upstairs?” Derek asks, a little hesitant.**

Every single person in the room turned to Derek with their eyebrows raised. Derek calmly met their stares and raised an eyebrow at them. This went on for some time before Melissa decided that nothing was really being accomplished and they might as well continue on.

**“I should get home,” Stiles says, rubbing his eyes. “Dad knows I don’t have any friends, so if I call him and say I’m staying at someone’s house, he’ll worry.”**

Jesus Christ, Derek thought pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s still young enough to have to call his dad for permission to spend the night.

**Derek regards him for a few minutes, then says, abruptly, “I’m sorry. You’re wasting your entire summer on my stupid problems.”**

**“Hey,” Stiles says, surprised. “It’s not like that. I _want_ to help.” **

**Derek shakes his head. He’s silent for a long minute, then says, “I never should have left them there. I should have gone to get them as soon as you called me.”**

**“Dude, you kinda had bigger problems,” Stiles says, but his stomach twists a little. “But I . . . sort of feel the same way, too. I could’ve gone and gotten them myself. But instead I just sat at home feeling sorry for myself because Gerard beat me up.” He reaches out and grabs Derek’s hand. “We’re _gonna_ find them, Derek. Somehow.” **

**With a sigh, Derek says, “I hope you’re right. I just . . .” He shakes his head. “I’m still kind of pissed off at them. And then I just feel worse about everything.”**

**“I think you’ve got every right to be pissed off at them,” Stiles says, “if that helps at all. I mean, no, it wasn’t all roses. But I don’t think you ever told them it was going to be. They fuckin’ ditched you, and that sucks, and they had a right to do it, but you have a right to be upset about it.”**

**Derek gives him a long look, then nods. “Thanks.”**

**“Yeah, no problem,” Stiles says. He gets out of the Camaro and heads for the Jeep. Then he hesitates and turns around as Derek gets out of the car. “Hey, uh . . . seriously, though, don’t feel like I’m . . . there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, okay?”**

**Derek frowns at this, as if there’s a part of him that just can’t comprehend that. But he nods again. “Okay. Yeah.”**

**“I’ll . . . see you tomorrow, then?” Stiles says.**

**“Yeah,” Derek says. “See you tomorrow.”**

**It’s not until he gets home that it occurs to him to wonder _why_ Derek had invited him upstairs. It’s not like his own house was more than fifteen minutes away, and it couldn’t have really been for social reasons, because it was far too late to watch a movie or anything like that. Of course, it could have just been to keep him from having to drive when he was tired, but he’s never made an offer like that before. **

No way, Stiles thought. There is no way a guy like _Derek Hale_ could ever be into him. He’s clearly just overthinking things.

**Sheriff Stilinski glances up when he sees Stiles standing in the front hallway with a befuddled expression on his face. “You okay?”**

**“Yeah, I just . . . think I might have inadvertently cockblocked the friend I was hanging out with today,” Stiles says. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t hung out before, but we were out and about and I guess it was sort of like a date although we didn’t really intend for it to be and then he invited me in, which he’s never done before, and I said no without thinking about it and he looked kinda hurt and shit.”**

**His father considers him for a minute, then pats the sofa next to him. Stiles walks over and sits down next to him. “I don’t think it counts as cockblocking,” he says, wincing a little at the term, “unless you actually would have had sex with him, if you’d realized that’s why he was inviting you in.”**

**“Oh,” Stiles says, twisting the bottom of his shirt in his hands. “I guess not.”**

**Derek’s hot, okay; it’s impossible to be in a room with him and _not_ notice. He’s hot like the _sun,_ and the last couple months of actually spending time with him in non-world-ending situations has made Stiles notice that he’s actually a pretty good guy. He enjoys spending time with him, and not just because he’s the only person who doesn’t know about Jackson. Stiles thinks that before Jackson, he might have entertained some idle or even not-so-idle thoughts about getting all up on that, but now the idea makes his stomach twist. **

Derek actually felt relieved. He liked knowing that Stiles liked him back, really liked _him_ and the knowledge that, at least for a while, it would not be sexual. After everything with Kate he didn’t know if he was even capable of having sex with Stiles while he was underage. At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about Stiles pressuring him for something neither of them were ready for.

**His father reaches out and rubs a hand over his back. “So this guy,” he says. “Anyone I know?”**

**“Nah, just . . . just a friend of Scott’s, he’s a couple years older, not in my class.”**

**The sheriff immediately draws the correct conclusions that this means the ‘friend’ is someone who doesn’t know about the Jackson situation. “And he didn’t pressure you, right?”**

**“No, no,” Stiles says. “He was so non-pressuring about it that I didn’t even realize it had happened until I was on the way home. Hell, I’m still not even sure I’m not jumping to conclusions. All he asked was ‘do you want to come upstairs’, not ‘do you want to come shag me’, so maybe he was just offering to let me crash since it was so late.” He frowns and adds, “God knows I have a tough time picturing this guy actually being interested in me. He tends to treat me like a pest. Or, well, did at first. I guess we’ve gotten along better lately.”**

**“Well, in guy language, ‘do you want to come upstairs’ is pretty much a prelude to intimacy,” Sheriff Stilinski says. “Otherwise he would have phrased it differently, like, ‘it’s late, do you want to crash here’.”**

**“Yeah, maybe, but then again, he’s a complete social incompetent, so it’s one hundred ten percent possible he didn’t mean anything by it and had no idea of the connotations.” Stiles gives a shrug and decides to let it go, because it’s pretty difficult to believe that Derek would actually have any interest in him that way. He should just be grateful for what he’s got.**

 

**~ ~ ~ ~**

 

**In amongst all this, Stiles is doing some copious research on another subject. So when he turns up at Derek’s the next day, he says, “You wouldn’t be averse to me kicking Peter’s ass a little, would you?”**

**Derek gives him a skeptical look, as if to say that his problem is more with the likelihood of success than the act itself, so Stiles explains. Derek listens. Then he has questions. It takes them about an hour to get it all hashed out. Stiles goes to get what he needs. Derek gives Peter a call.**

**The formerly-dead werewolf shows up at the loft about half an hour later, and by then Stiles is back. “New lead?” Peter asks, kicking dust off his boots as he comes inside.**

**“Something like that,” Stiles says, and throws the handful of wolfsbane powder into his face. Peter pitches backwards and hits the floor with a thud.**

**“Now _that_ is some karmic justice,” Derek says. He drags Peter across the room so Stiles has enough space to work, putting him in a mountain ash circle. **

**He comes to a few minutes later, shaking his head groggily. “Really, boys?” he asks, when he realizes he’s trapped.**

**“Really,” Stiles says. “I have some questions for you. About Lydia.”**

**Peter sighs. “Yes, I’m a horrible person, I repent.”**

**“That’s not the question, fucknuts,” Stiles says. “I’ve done enough research to figure out how you did what you did. And according to the research, you still have the ability to have that same psychic hold on her. I am not down with that. We are going to undo it. Capisce?”**

Lydia shuddered. Peter had a psychic hold on her? She fervently hoped that Stiles was able to get him to undo it. Just the thought made her skin crawl.

**“That’s more of a statement than a question,” Peter says.**

**“I want to know how you knew she was immune,” Stiles says.**

**Peter sighs. “Because she’s been bitten before,” he says. “A long time ago now. There was a pack of werehyenas in town. They don’t pack the same way; there’s no alpha-beta structure. Anyone can turn a human. She got nipped on the heel while she was in her stroller. Her mother brought her to Deaton because she was worried about rabies. Rumor travelled around. It wasn’t that hard to find her again.”**

**“And you were able to manipulate her because you didn’t just bite her, but fed her a few drops of your blood while she was unconscious,” Stiles says. “I know that; I saw you do it. I just didn’t realize what you were doing at the time.”**

Lydia gagged, disgusted. She had swallowed some of his _blood?_ That was disgusting.

**“Guilty,” Peter says, with that smile of his.**

**“You infected her like some sort of parasite,” Stiles says. “Well, if you’re the poison, I’m the cure.” He turns to Derek. “Keep him here.”**

**“I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Derek says.**

**Stiles leaves the loft and drives to Lydia’s house. It’s the first time he’ll be seeing her since school ended, and even then, they barely spoke those last few weeks. He hesitates, but this is important. He rings the bell. Mrs. Martin answers, and goes to get Lydia. She looks surprised to see him. “Hi,” she says.**

**“Hey,” he says. “Hey, uh . . . I need to talk to you. In private. It’s about Peter Hale.”**

**Lydia gives a little shiver, but gets in the Jeep with him. They drive aimlessly for a few minutes, and then he starts telling her about the research he’s been doing, about how Peter was able to use her. “He stopped doing it because he doesn’t need to anymore, but he still has the ability,” he says, and Lydia shudders. “But uh . . . there’s a way to reverse it. It doesn’t look _comfortable,_ but . . .” **

**“I’ll do it,” she interrupts.**

**Stiles nods and drives back to the loft. Peter is still sitting in the mountain ash circle with that expression of faint amusement on his face. “Hello, beautiful,” he says, when Lydia comes in.**

**Lydia points to the circle. “I can cross that, right?” she asks.**

**“You’ll have your opportunity to kick him in the balls when I’m done,” Stiles says. He pulls over a chair. “Sit down,” he adds. He takes out a box of what he needs. The first thing is a ceremonial knife and bowl. He has Lydia hold her hand out and makes a cut across her palm, squeezing out several drops of blood. “Derek, help me out here,” he says, and waves his hand over the mountain ash circle, breaking it.**

**Peter isn’t anxious to donate, but Derek’s alpha strength is superior to his, and he holds Peter down while Stiles pries his hand open and draws the knife across it. Peter makes a hissing noise as his blood mixes with Lydia’s in the bowl. Derek keeps him held down, watching in interest as Stiles takes out a piece of red string and puts it in the bowl so it soaks through with both their blood.**

Holy shit am I doing magic? Stiles thought excited. That is so cool!

**“Do you actually know what you’re doing?” he asks, casually pressing Peter’s face into the floor.**

**“Uh, yeah,” Stiles says. “Did you think I was just making this shit up? I’ve done a metric fuck ton of research lately. And I may have stolen a bunch of books from Deaton’s office.”**

**He ties the string around Lydia’s thumb – “for willpower” – and Peter’s index finger – “for authority.” Then, with the string connecting them, he gives Lydia a sprig of mistletoe to hold. “Mistletoe denies entry,” he tells her. He loops the string around it just after it leaves her hand. “Okay, now, this is the part that I don’t quite know what to expect,” he adds, and pulls out a box of matches.**

**“Please do not burn my loft down,” Derek says, looking at the small flame with apprehension.**

**“No worries, I brought a fire extinguisher in case things get really out of hand,” Stiles says. He measures the thread carefully and sets it on fire at exactly the midway point between the two. Despite the string not being particularly flammable and soaked with blood besides, the fire immediately catches, racing down the thread towards the two parties.**

**Peter struggles to get free, though it seems more out of instinct than anything else, but Lydia sits perfectly still. The fire burns all the way through the thread and then the mistletoe goes up in a brief gout of flame. When it gutters out, both of them are completely unharmed, if a little sooty, and the thread and mistletoe are completely gone.**

**“Nifty,” Stiles says, impressed with himself.**

**“Did it work?” Lydia asked.**

**“I think we can probably assume so, but if you see this jackass in your dreams anymore, come tell me, okay?” Stiles says, and Lydia nods.**

**Peter heaves a sigh. “Might I get up now?”**

**Lydia narrows her eyes at him. “I suppose,” she says, and Derek gets off him. The older werewolf stands and straightens his clothes.**

**“That was a charming experience,” he says.**

**“You know, for some reason, nobody here is really interested in your opinion about it,” Stiles says. “I can’t imagine why.”**

**Peter just smiles at him. “I can’t imagine why you haven’t turned him yet, nephew. He’d make a good addition to our pack.”**

**_“My_ pack,” Derek corrects. “Now get out.” **

**“Touchy, touchy.” Peter leaves without another word.**

**Stiles tries to smile at Lydia. “C’mon. I’ll take you home. Thanks for, uh, thanks for the help, Derek,” he adds, and Derek just nods at him. The drive back to Lydia’s house passes in silence. Even after they’ve gotten there, they just sit in the driveway for a long minute, not talking.**

**“Uhm, so,” Lydia finally says, “how are you doing?” ******

**“I’m . . . okay,” Stiles says.**

**“I’m really sorry about . . . what happened,” Lydia says.**

**“Why are _you_ sorry?” **

**“Well, it was my party . . . I should have been paying more attention.” ******

**Stiles reaches over and gives her forearm a squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault, Lydia. Not any more than it was my fault. The only person whose fault it is, is the guy who did it. My dad’s told me that pretty much every morning and evening since he found out about it. Okay?”**

**“Yeah,” she says, looking down at her lap. “Okay. But . . . thanks for helping me out. You know. I didn’t know what happened to Peter and I didn’t know how to ask. No one seemed to want me in the loop. I guess you guys thought you were protecting me, but . . .”**

**“From now on, you are one hundred percent in the loop,” Stiles says. “I promise.”**

**Lydia smiles now. “Thanks.”**

**A moment of silence passes, but it’s a lot less awkward.**

**“So . . . you’ve been spending a lot of time with Derek, then?” Lydia asks.**

**“Yeah.” If she’s going to be in the loop, then there’s a lot he’ll need to tell her. “Erica and Boyd are missing. There’s a pack of alphas . . .”**

**They wind up going out for coffee. He has to talk for a very long time, to explain everything from the beginning, and Lydia being Lydia, has all sorts of intelligent questions to ask. She has some theories about how to track down the alpha pack, so Stiles asks her if she wants to come by Derek’s the next day, and they can go over them. She says okay, and he takes her back home.**

“That’s the end,” Melissa said. She was relieved, that had actually been a fairly good chapter.

Boyd gently took the book from her. “I’ll read next,” he said.


	5. reading Chapter 5

Boyd took a deep breath. With any luck the worst was behind them and nothing bad would be in this chapter.

**Two days later, Stiles’ doorbell rings at around nine o’clock at night. His father is working night shift, and he approaches it with some apprehension. He doesn’t put it past his tormenters to come to his house. So far, they haven’t, but he suspects that that’s because they don’t want the sheriff pissed off at them. But when he looks through the peephole, it’s Lydia, so he opens the door.**

**“Hey,” he says, and frowns when he sees that she’s been crying.**

Oh, geez. Stiles thought. What now?

**She looks up at him with reddened eyes and says, “It was Jackson, wasn’t it. Who raped you.”**

Stiles couldn’t help the flinch. He scolded himself for it, it was just a _word_ it shouldn’t have such a strong effect on him.

**Stiles blanches despite himself, and rubs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out. He just wants to be – _different,_ in some indefinable way. “C’mon in,” he says, standing back to let her inside. He shuts the door behind her, and turns to look back at her, only get to slapped in the face. “Ow, Lydia, what the hell,” he protests. **

**“You should have told me,” she says.**

**Stiles looks away. “Nope,” he says.**

**“You think I didn’t deserve to know I was dating a rapist?” Lydia says.**

**After a moment, Stiles heads into the kitchen and gets two mugs to make them both tea. He sets them down on the counter. “Back when you were dating him? You didn’t know that I _existed._ Look me in the eye and tell me that you would have believed me if I told you.” **

“I knew you existed,” Lydia whispered to herself.

**Lydia’s gaze slides to the side. “I don’t know,” she says quietly.**

**“Well, that was reason enough for me not to tell you,” Stiles says. “I didn’t tell _anyone,_ Lyds. I didn’t want to acknowledge it had _happened._ I thought – I could just – pretend I was okay until eventually I would be. That’s all.” **

Derek sighed. If only it were that easy.

**Lydia sits down at the kitchen table. Stiles busies himself making the tea. “You helped me save his life.”**

**“That’s what you wanted to do,” Stiles says.**

**“After everything he did to you . . . after he put those photographs up for everyone to see . . . you still helped me save him.”**

**“Look, everything happened really fast,” Stiles says, pushing a hand through his hair. “Before he put the photos up, I sort of hoped nobody would ever know about it. Then, the whole thing with the kanima, and, and I didn’t have _time_ to tell you, time to explain. It would have come off all wrong, like . . . I don’t know. Besides, I can’t play judge, jury, and executioner. What he did to me was horrible. And I wouldn’t have shed a single tear if he had bit it. But maybe that’s not what was meant to happen.” He shuts the cabinet that holds the tea and says, “Frankly, I’m just glad he’s gone.” **

**Lydia wipes her eyes. “I feel like I should do something. Is voodoo a thing that works?”**

**“I dunno,” Stiles says, and tries to laugh. “Don’t worry about it, anyway. I mean, Jackson had so many awful qualities, and you dated him regardless, what’s one more?”**

The Sheriff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a difference between being a smug prick and a rapist. _What’s one more?_

**Lydia gives him a narrow-eyed stare. “He might do it to others. We should do something.”**

**Stiles shakes his head. “Let it go, Lydia. I’m not . . . strong enough. To try to bring it to light. Okay? If my dad, the sheriff, couldn’t convince me to press charges, you aren’t going to.”**

Scott shifted uncomfortably. Stiles was the strong one. If Stiles wasn’t strong enough to do something how did anyone? How could Scott support Stiles when he had always been the one supported? He was so upset with himself. The _one time_ Stiles needed him he was nowhere to be found.

**“What if there was a witness?” Lydia offers. “I could say I saw something.”**

**“Look, even if he got convicted, he’s a werewolf. It’s not like he’d sit quietly in a jail cell.” Stiles just shakes his head. “How’d you figure it out, anyway?”**

**Lydia sighs and looks away. “I didn’t really . . . _look_ at those photographs the first time, you know? I didn’t want to see them. But after you helped me with Peter, I thought . . . maybe I could help you. I thought maybe you honestly didn’t _know_ who had done it to you – that you were drunk or roofied or something – so maybe I could identify them and we could press charges. But . . . once I actually _looked_ at those photographs . . . I know what Jackson looks like naked, you know? And then I thought back to the party. He usually hangs right by me, you know, making sure no other guys make a pass at me, but that party, that night, he had wandered off and I hadn’t seen him for over half an hour, and he never told me where he’d been. Put that together with . . . some other things, and I just . . .” **  
**“I’m sorry,” Stiles says.**

Lydia’s head snapped towards the book. Was Stiles actually trying to apologize for being raped?! Oh when she got her hands on Jackson…

**“Why are you sorry?” she asks him.**

**“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “I’m just sorry.”**

**“You really wouldn’t have said anything?” Lydia asks. “What if we had really gotten back together, after the whole kanima thing? Been a couple again?”**

**Stiles shakes his head again. “I don’t know, Lydia. I want to say I would’ve told you, but I can’t fuckin’ swear to it, you know? Anyway, he’s gone now. I just want to put it behind me.”**

**“But it isn’t over,” Lydia says. “I know that people are still harassing you.”**

**“I can handle some text messages,” Stiles says. “It isn’t a big deal, so don’t make it one. Okay?”**

“Not a big deal!?” several voices chimed out. Startled, Danny, the Sherriff, Scott and Derek looked at each other and then all seemed to come to the consensus that they would never speak of this moment again.

**Lydia gives him a look for a long moment, but then sighs and says, “Okay. Fine. I just . . . don’t like to think of you in pain.”**

**“Life is pain, highness,” Stiles quotes. “Anyone who says differently is – ”**

**“ – selling something,” Lydia finishes, and they both laugh.**

Stiles let out a little gasp, clutching his heart dramatically. Lydia could quote the Princess Bride! Could she get any more perfect?

**“Okay. But I still say we should see if we can learn voodoo and give him the galloping cockrot from across the ocean.”**

So many people broke out with laughter that nobody heard Stiles wheezing with laughter, a smile of pure joy on his face for the first time in months.

**“You’re on,” Stiles says.**

 

**~ ~ ~ ~**

 

**If the alpha pack called in the tip to misdirect the police department, Stiles thinks it has to have been because the police had stumbled upon something that would have actually helped them find Deucalion and the others. So he asks his father if he can take a look at the tips and leads they had gotten. His father brings home the files. A number of people had, in fact, seen Deucalion around town. He’s fairly distinctive, given the sunglasses and cane.**

Isaac frowned, looking at the Sherriff. “Is that legal?” he asked, puzzled.

The Sherriff, looking astonishingly like his son, cheerfully said, “Nope.”

And that was simply the end of it. Nobody was willing to call the man out on his actions when Stiles was the best source for actually figuring out what was going on.

**They had never gotten there in time to catch him, but given the pattern of sightings, had the general area that he was probably living in well marked. Sheriff Stilinski had accordingly increased police presence in the area, trying to catch a glimpse of him. That, Stiles thinks, is probably why the alpha pack called in the fake tip. He finds it interesting that they chose to do that rather than simply move to a different part of town.**

The Sherriff leaned forward, interested in where his son was going with this.

**He’s got the map tacked up on the wall with the various sightings, and is examining all the buildings in that area, when his father comes in and sits down on the edge of his bed. He’s quiet for a few minutes before saying, “Stiles, why do I feel like you know something about this?”**

Stiles, Derek and Scott all tensed up. They did not want the Sherriff to get mixed up in the Supernatural. It was too late thanks to this book but Stiles dreaded the thought of having to hear someone read about his father getting hurt or killed.

**“What?” Stiles asks, pretending not to know what his father is talking about, marking an apartment complex with his highlighter.**

**“This whole thing with Erica and Boyd. Now, I know that you’re going to say you’re just worried, kids your age, you’re trying to distract yourself, et cetera. I’m fully prepared to disregard all your excuses.” He gives that a moment to sink in. “Because I know you, and there’s something you’re not telling me.”**

**“What do you think it is?” Stiles asks, stalling for time.**

The Sherriff sighed, exasperated. “Is it really that hard to be honest with me?” He addressed the room at large, knowing Stiles could hear him.

Stiles flinched. He truly hated lying to his father but he also couldn’t fathom the idea of introducing his father into such a dangerous world.

**“Well,” his father says, “there have been a lot of strange things going on lately. Two serial killers in six months, which is more than the last, oh, six decades. And Matt . . . well, I won’t say it’s _impossible_ for him to do what he did, because he obviously did it, but some of those bodies were sliced up pretty badly, and he just didn’t really look physically capable of that sort of thing. And those deaths last autumn still looked more like animal maulings than anything else.” **

**Stiles pretends his father isn’t talking, and circles a bus station with a different color highlighter.**

**“But this thing with Erica and Boyd . . . it’s the timing that gets me. A hell of a lot happened that night, don’t you think? Jackson nearly getting killed on the lacrosse field, you getting beaten up, Erica and Boyd disappearing.”**

**“Mm,” Stiles says, trying to stay noncommittal.**

**“Did you see something?” his father presses. “Something you think you can’t tell me?”**

**Stiles just shakes his head.**

**Sheriff Stilinski lets out a slow breath. “Look, kid, I . . . I want you to know . . . if you’re the one who hurt Jackson that night, I wouldn’t blame you.”**

**“W-What?” Stiles asks, honestly taken aback.**

‘Yeah,’ Stiles thought. ‘What?’

**His father gives him a steady look. “We never did figure out who injured him, you know. Everything was so chaotic, given that the power went out, and uh . . . your presence was pretty much unaccounted for during all of it. I know that you know enough about circuitry to have blown a fuse, and, well, the way you looked later, it seems like you might have been jostling with some kids on the field.”**

Despite knowing it was not the appropriate reaction to have, Stiles honestly felt insulted. He could do a much better job of killing Jackson than that clusterfuck of a game. 

**“Jesus _Christ,_ Dad,” Stiles says, almost too surprised to protest. “I didn’t try to kill Jackson.” **

**“I would understand if you had,” his father says earnestly. “After what he did to you.”**

**“Look, Dad, if I had decided to kill Jackson I would have come up with a _much_ better plan than that. One that wouldn’t have involved several dozen possible witnesses, zero alibi, and stab wounds at random locations.” **

**Sheriff Stilinski frowns. “I’m not sure how comforted I am by the fact that your argument is that you would be _better_ at murder than that.” **

**Stiles shrugs. “Pretty much the truth, though.”**

There was not a single person in the room that disagreed. They all knew that if Stiles truly wanted to get away with murder he could. 

**“Okay,” his father says, and rubs a hand over his head. “But I’m still not convinced that you don’t know something about what happened to Boyd and Erica. Every time I turned around during that entire investigation, it seemed like I was tripping over you. I know, I know, you’re going to say you were just trying to help me solve it. But you know what I think is funny?”**

**“What?” Stiles asks, his tone wary.**

**“These two people who gave the descriptions of the people who might be holding Erica and Boyd hostage, although for God knows what reason,” Sheriff Stilinski says. “Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey. Reported separately, from people who are not related. That’s what we call independent verification.”**

**“Yeah . . .” Stiles says.**

**“Yeah, except, although they may not be related to each other, they _are_ both connected to you,” his father says. “You were there the night Isaac escaped from the police station. And God knows you have connection enough to Derek Hale from last winter.” **

**Stiles winces.**

**“You know what else I find odd?” his father continues, and waves at the wall of photos. “They’re not up here. On your wall of evidence. You’ve got the composite sketches posted, but no details on who gave them, when, or where. Like . . . you already knew what they reported.”**

Those less familiar with the Stilinski family (basically everyone but Scott and Melissa, felt quite impressed. No wonder Stiles was so smart. He took after his dad. The only way to compete with a Stilinski was to enlist the help of another Stilinski.

**“Dad, stop looking at my evidence wall,” Stiles says loudly. “You’re invading my privacy.”**

Melissa snorted rather loudly. Upon realizing she had everyone’s attention she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a _Stiles-like_ thing. Most teenagers will go off on you for looking through their phone or room or diary, but not Stiles. He gets upset if you look at his _evidence wall.”_

Hearing her explanation, they all just had to laugh while Stiles pouted. It wasn’t _that_ funny.

**Sheriff Stilinski lets out a sigh. “Okay. Answer one question for me. God knows you’ve been throwing yourself at trouble lately. Do you have any idea what it was like for me, being chained up in the police station while Matt was holding you and Scott at gunpoint? How _terrified_ I was that he would hurt you, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it?” **

Oh crap, Stiles thought. The guilt card.

**Stiles folds his arms across his stomach and looks away. “I think I know a little something about it.”**

**“Then just do this for me. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not in any danger?”**

**Stiles bites down on his lower lip. His gaze flickers up to his father, then away, as he thinks about everything Peter’s told them about the alpha pack, and the theories they have on why they’re in town or what they’re going to do. “No, Dad, I . . . I guess I can’t do that.”**

**Sheriff Stilinski lets out another breath. “Okay. Then we’re not leaving this room until you tell me what the _hell_ is going on.” **

**Stiles’ mouth works silently for a few long moments. He’s still terrified of the idea of his father knowing about what’s going on. But he has to admit that ignorance is probably just as dangerous. Would things have been different that night, if he had told his father what the kanima was capable of? Would Kendra and the others still be alive? Or would his father be dead, too?**

**There are no good choices, and he knows that whichever way he goes, he’ll probably have regrets. But one thing is certain: his father is five hundred percent serious. And Stiles doesn’t think he’ll be able to come up with lies that will satisfy him.**

 

**After another minute, he says, “Yeah, okay, I . . . come with me, okay? There’s someone you need to meet.”**

**His father frowns, but nods and stands up. “Okay. Let’s go.”**

**They take the cruiser. Stiles texts Derek to let them know they’re coming and the purpose of their visit. Sheriff Stilinski parks outside the loft, frowning a little at the neighborhood but not outright protesting. Stiles sits there for a minute, not getting out. “Uh,” he says. “This is, uh, this is the friend I was telling you about. That I’ve been spending some time with lately. Do me a favor and just . . . don’t mention Jackson, okay? He doesn’t know what happened to me and I want to keep it that way. It’s just . . . easier for me.”**

**Sheriff Stilinski nods, because there isn’t much he can do with that besides agree. He follows Stiles up the stairs at the back of the loft, watches as he raps on the metal door. Derek opens it moments later and gives them both a nod. “Stiles,” he says. “Sheriff.”**

**“Mr. Hale,” Sheriff Stilinski says, clearly startled. He darts a sideways glance at Stiles as if to say _‘this_ is who invited you up to their apartment? How old is he?’ but he doesn’t comment. **

Derek grimaced at the reminder. It really didn’t help that he was the same age Kate had been when she tricked him. And that Stiles was the same age he had been.

**“Come in,” Derek says, standing back. He shuts the door behind them.**

**Sheriff Stilinski shoots another look at Stiles. “Okay,” he says, “start talking.”**

**“Uh, you’d better sit down,” Stiles says, ushering his father towards a chair, which gets him a skeptically raised eyebrow. “Derek, uh, who else is here? Is it just you tonight?”**

**Derek shakes his head a little. “Isaac’s here too. And Peter’s been lurking.”**

Because that is exactly what they needed right now. Peter and his snark.

**“Great,” Stiles says, underneath his breath. Because what this conversation really needs is serial murderer number one. Maybe he can keep that from coming up. “Okay, Dad. Okay. Uh. Werewolves.”**

The Sheriff frowned. Stiles had _better not_ leave that out. And seriously, he thought that _that_ was the best way to break the news.

**“I beg your pardon?” Sheriff Stilinski says.**

**“Werewolves. Are real. And Beacon Hills has a werewolf problem, and that’s why such weird shit has been going down.”**

**“Stiles, for the love of _holy shit,”_ Sheriff Stilinski says, because at that point, Derek shifts to prove the point. The sheriff nearly falls out of his chair. **

**“It isn’t a werewolf problem,” Peter remarks acerbically, coming down the spiral staircase. “That makes it sound like we’re some sort of infestation.”**

And now Peter’s there. Fan-freaking-tastic, Stiles thought.

**Stiles thinks of several decent comebacks, but shelves them, because his father looks like he might actually have a stroke. “Dad?” he says cautiously. “Dad, I know it’s a lot to take in, but calm down and Jesus Christ don’t go for your gun, Derek’s not a bad guy, he’s just a werewolf, it’s totally cool, if you want to shoot someone, shoot Peter.”**

 

Derek and Scott both snickered. There was no love lost between them and Peter.

**Peter looks offended. Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t notice. Stiles has to have him sit with his head down for several long minutes while he internally argues with reality. Finally, he takes a deep breath and looks up. He’s only barely able to look at Derek’s wolfed-out features before cringing, not in a frightened way, but in an ‘I can’t believe I’m seeing this’ sort of way.**

**Then what Stiles said clicks. “Peter,” he says. “Peter Hale?”**  
**“The one and only,” Peter says.**  
**“You’ve been missing since you left the hospital,” Sheriff Stilinski says.**

**Peter shrugs. “It’s amazing what a good haircut and a fake identity can do.”**

**“Okay,” Stiles says, a little more loudly than necessary. “So. The salient points. Derek,” he says, with a gesture, “is the alpha in this territory. That means he’s like the head honcho, in charge of all the werewolfy business. These other werewolves decided to come to Beacon Hills and stir shit up, and we think they took two of Derek’s pack members, Erica and Boyd, as leverage, or some shit like that.”**

**Sheriff Stilinski rubs a hand over his face. “Start at the beginning.”**

**Stiles looks at Derek. Then he looks at Peter. “Uh . . .”**

**“Go ahead,” Derek says with a nod.**

**Peter shrugs. “I don’t care if you tell him.”**

**“Okay,” Stiles says. He takes a minute to sum up his thoughts. Then he starts at the beginning. Laura’s body, in the woods. Scott’s encounter with Peter. Their first meetings with Derek. The murders.**

**Before five minutes has gone by, Sheriff Stilinski says, “Wait, wait. Am I to understand that all the murders we thought were committed by Kate Argent were actually committed by Peter Hale?”**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Pretty much.”**

**“So . . . explain to me why I’m not arresting him.”**

**“Uh . . .” Stiles says, as Peter gives one of those epic Hale eyerolls. “Primarily because you can’t prove anything; secondarily because a jail cell wouldn’t hold him for an hour. Better to just let that one go, Dad.” He sees the way his father is still frowning and hastens onward. To be fair, he doesn’t really blame Peter for killing the people who murdered his family, although his methods certainly left a lot to be desired.**

Nobody could really say there were much surprised at Stiles’ opinion but all the same there was something unsettling about hearing it out loud.

**He summarizes as much as possible, trying to steer clear of a lot of detail. His father looks really, really unhappy to hear about how Jackson had been the kanima, and Stiles skims by it as much as possible. “So we’ve spent the last couple months trying to figure out what Deucalion wants and where he might be stashing Erica and Boyd, but we really haven’t gotten much of anywhere.”**

**There’s a long silence while the Sheriff files things away. He had started taking notes as soon as they got into recent events, and Stiles feels a well of pride for his father, the best detective he knows. “Okay, well, I assume if you had gotten a ransom note or anything like that, you would have mentioned it,” he says.**

**Derek nods. “There’s been no contact with them at all. In fact, until you got some tips from civilians about seeing Deucalion in town, we weren’t even one hundred percent sure they were here. All we had to go on was the pack symbol they left on the door.”**

**The sheriff rubs a hand through his hair. “How sure are we that this tip from San Francisco was actually planted by them?”**

**“It’s impossible to be sure,” Derek says with a shrug.**

**“No, but the timing is suspect.” Peter gets a beer and sits down at the kitchen table. “Since then, there have been no sightings of Deucalion or Kali around town. Which implies that they know they’re being looked for.”**

**“Look, uh . . . it can’t be easy to hold a . . . a werewolf, right?” Sheriff Stilinski grimaces on the word, but forces it out. “Like you were saying, Peter would be able to break out of a jail cell, and Isaac did that one time, too. So they can’t be just anywhere.”**

**“They would need a secure location,” Stiles agrees with a nod, “but there _are_ methods that can help. Like, uh, voltage. Electricity will render a werewolf immobile and unable to shift. I’m not saying that’s what they _are_ doing, but if it is, Erica and Boyd could be in some dude’s garage for all we know.” **

**“Well, the first thing to do is see if they’ve got any property in the area,” Sheriff Stilinski says, standing up.**

**“Without a last name, how do you intend to do that?” Peter says, quirking an eyebrow. He’s got that ‘how cute, the civilian thinks he can keep up with us’ tone to his voice.**

Stiles smiled to himself. That attitude would not fly with his dad.

**Sheriff Stilinski shuts him down immediately. “What makes you think I don’t have a last name?” he asks, and then nods to Derek. “I’ll keep you posted, Mr. Hale,” he says, and heads for the door.**

**Stiles is grinning outright, and he waves at Derek as he trots along on his father’s heels. He waits until they’re back in the car to say, “Okay, did you say that just to fuck with Peter, or do you _actually_ have his name?” **

Both were equally likely.

**His father smiles slightly and says, “I have a name.”**

**Stiles flails and says, “C’mon, spill!”**

**“Okay,” his father says. “Peter’s story about the alpha pack rings some bells. I remember when Ennis came in to claim the body.”**

**“Right, I figured you would,” Stiles says. “That’s why we didn’t give a composite of him.”**

**“Because you were hiding things from me,” Stilinski says, giving his son a sideways glance. Stiles lifts his hands in surrender. “But okay. As it happens, when it became clear that the victim had no family, Ennis _was_ allowed to see the remains and give a positive ID. As such, there’s paperwork he would have signed. All we have to do is go find it. Now, from the way it was described, Ennis is more the brawn than the brains of the operation, but it’s at least a place to start.” **

**Stiles nods. “Yeah, running his records might get us Deucalion or Kali’s last name.”**

**“Exactly,” his father says.**

Derek shivered. Stilinskis were terrifying.

**After a long pause, Stiles lets out a breath. “I’m . . . glad I told you,” he says. “I wanted to. I mean. I was just afraid of what might happen to you.”**

**Sheriff Stilinski shakes his head a little and says, “You should’ve known better than to think I would have ever been happier being kept in the dark. But . . . it’s a lot to deal with, especially coming on top of the whole Jackson thing. And I know that you were trying to protect Scott, and God knows I can forgive you for thinking that I wouldn’t believe you. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes . . .” His voice trails off. “I think you did the best you could, kid.”**

**“Thanks,” Stiles says.**

**“But you know I have to ask . . .”**

**Stiles swallows. “I didn’t lie, Dad. I used the opportunity when we had Jackson in the van to try to get him to tell me where he had the photos. He wouldn’t. Yeah, it was also because of kanima-related reasons – otherwise Scott and Allison wouldn’t have gone along with it. But when I told you about why I had come up with it, that was the truth. It just didn’t work out.”**

**His father nods a little. “And I assume that him being a werewolf in the end has something to do with why you didn’t want to press charges?”**

**“There were a _lot_ of reasons I didn’t want to press charges, most of them beginning and ending with the idea of having to get up on a witness stand and tell a jury of my peers about what he did to me, but the fact that a jail cell couldn’t hold him played into it, yeah.” **

**Sheriff Stilinski grimaces a little, but then nods. “Okay. I guess that makes sense to me.”**

**Stiles can’t think of anything to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut.**

**They drive in silence for a few minutes. “So,” Sheriff Stilinski finally says. “Derek Hale.”**

‘Uh-oh,’ Derek thought with a flash of panic. 

**“Mm hm,” Stiles says.**

**“Not who I would have expected.”**

**Stiles shrugs a little. “We argued a lot in the beginning, he was a gigantic jerk, he threatened me a lot, but . . . I think maybe he did the best he could, too. And he’s had my back, when I’ve needed him to.”**

**“Well, I’m glad,” the sheriff says. “That there’s been someone you can count on.”**

**“It’s kinda stupid, right?” Stiles says. “I mean, hanging out with him all the time. But I told him to let me know if I was bothering him. I think maybe he’s just lonely. And I like going over there. He makes me feel safe.”**

Derek felt like his heart might explode in his chest. The idea of being able to make Stiles, a boy so wounded, guarded and alone, feel safe made him proud. As an alpha he felt proud just knowing that a member of his pack needed him and welcomed the protection he provided. 

**It’s not until he speaks the words out loud that he actually really comprehends them, and realizes that it’s true, and more than that, that it’s important. In a world of monsters both human and inhuman, Derek is the person that makes Stiles feel safe. Both physically and emotionally.**

Isaac looked from the book to Derek. What he really wanted was to feel safe and loved. Could Derek give that to him? If Stiles who didn’t trust anyone trusted Derek and felt safe with him surely Isaac could give him another chance to try and do better. 

**His father gives him another glance, then just reaches over and tousles his hair without another word. They drive the rest of the way home in silence.**

Boyd sighed in relief. The chapter hadn’t been bad at all. He had half been expecting something terrible to happen. 

“That’s the end of the chapter. Who wants to read next?” 

“I will,” said Allison. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Three days later, Stiles is sitting around Derek’s loft with stacks of paper that he got from his father. Phone records, financial records, criminal records. All of it on one Ennis Blackfeather. They still haven’t been able to get Deucalion’s last name. He’s curiously absent from any records. But they did find Kali’s last name and driver’s license, so now they’ve got reams of records on her as well.**

‘Holy crap!’ seemed to be the general consensus. How long had they been looking and not finding anything only for the sheriff to turn around and have everything they needed?

**“Do you have to do that here?” Derek asks, as Stiles puts up a bulletin board and starts connecting mysterious deaths with lines of red thread.**

**“Here is where I happen to be,” Stiles replies.**

**“It’s just . . . morbid,” Derek says.**

**“I’ll bring it home with me at the end of the day if you don’t want to have to look at it,” Stiles says. “Seriously, though, both Ennis and Kali were suspects in multiple deaths. Right around the same time, too. About three to four months after the whole thing with Deucalion and Gerard. One of the first of Beacon Hills’ many murder sprees.”**

The Sheriff sighed and rubbed at his face. He hated that people needed to clarify _which_ murder pree they were talking about.

**Derek rubs a hand over his face. “Just tell me what it means.”**

**“You’re a terrible detective, you know that?” Stiles says. “I mean, how long did it take you to figure out who the kanima was?” He returns Derek’s glare with an innocent look. “Impatience, that’s your problem. I can see it now, in your bulging arm muscles.”**

**“Stiles,” Derek growls. “The point.”**

**“I’m not sure of the point yet,” Stiles says. “The most obvious explanation is that these guys are hunters, so Kali and Ennis killed a bunch of them. But I don’t know anything for sure.”**

**“Either way, it doesn’t get us any closer to finding Erica and Boyd,” Derek says, pacing around the loft.**

**“Nope.” Stiles rubs a hand over his face and dives back into the most recent records. But there’s nothing past about six months previous. “You know, I find it interesting that Deucalion chose to try to divert the police rather than simply move. Territory thing?”**

**Derek shakes his head a little. “Shouldn’t be. He doesn’t have any claim here.”**

**“So either he’s particular about where he lives, or thinks it would have been dangerous to try to move Erica and Boyd . . .” Stiles’ voice trails off and he continues to wade through the paperwork. Minutes drag by and turn into hours. He feels a headache building behind his eyes. Derek is alternately pacing around and pretending to read, his entire body tense, like a coiled spring, waiting for Stiles to find some miracle.**

**Finally, just past three, Stiles tosses the papers aside and says, “You wanna get out of here?”**

**“Jesus, yes,” Derek says. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”**

**He locks up the loft and they go down to the Camaro. Derek gets behind the wheel and they just drive for a while. The windows are down and he puts The Rolling Stones on the stereo. Stiles watches the scenery roll by and just mellows out for a while, letting the warm air and the music relax him. He thinks that they could just drive like this for hours and he could be content.**

Allison paused for a moment. This was starting to sound dangerously like a date. Could it be? Stiles and _Derek_ of all people?

**About an hour has passed before the road curves and he sees the ocean. He stares out at it for a little while as the road winds and twists and it comes in and out of view.**

**“You want to hit the beach?” Derek asks.**

**“Sure,” Stiles says.**

**They wind up in this little seaside town with a boardwalk. His stomach is growling, so they get tacos and eat sitting on benches, watching the waves crash on the shore. Then they hit the arcade. Stiles kicks Derek’s ass at every video game, where Derek pummels him at anything requiring physical skill. Between the two of them, they compile a massive amount of tickets.**

Allison and Lydia shared a look. This was most definitely a date. The question was whether or not either one realized it.

**“You should get me one of those ridiculously huge stuffed animals,” Stiles says. He’s completely joking, which is why he winds up holding a gigantic stuffed unicorn a few minutes later. Derek ignores all his protests and drags him back to the car so they don’t have to lug it around with them.**

Now the Sheriff was paying closer attention. Derek had already invited Stiles to spend the night once and now he was winning Stiles stuffed animals? He couldn’t quite decide how he felt about it. His knee-jerk reaction was to shout that Derek was way too old and completely inappropriate. But could he ignore the fact that he made Stiles feel safe? That he gave Stiles somewhere to go where he could escape all the shit in his life?

Derek was a little embarrassed that everyone was hearing his, admittedly pathetic, attempts at courtship. This should have been something private between him and Stiles.

**They play air hockey and ride the tiny Ferris wheel and roller coaster that the park sports. Everywhere they go, Derek and his tank top are followed by admiring glances, but he seems oblivious to them. Stiles even tries his flirting skills on a couple of girls who are between their ages, to see what Derek will do, but he seems completely uninterested. To be fair, so do the girls.**

Derek furrowed his brows, bewildered. Was Stiles trying to make him jealous or was he trying to make him laugh? If it was the former did that mean Stiles had feelings for him and simply hadn’t acknowledged them so far? And if it was the latter did that mean that Derek had no chance whatsoever with the boy?

**As the sun is starting to set, they get some ice cream and sit on the beach, just watching the sun and the waves and not talking. It’s the most relaxed he’s been in weeks, even if he has no idea if they’re on a date or what. He doesn’t want to know. He’s okay with things just as they are. And he thinks that Derek is, too. The werewolf has finally stopped frowning. The little lines on his forehead and around his eyes are gone.**

A huge smile spread across Derek’s face. It was a date. And maybe thing with Stiles would work out beyond his wildest hopes.

Scott frowned lightly. He still didn’t like Derek but he had already accepted that he needed to go back to trusting Stiles’ judgment. Clearly he saw something in Derek that made him worthy of being trusted and Scott needed to accept that. He still didn’t like the idea of Derek with his best friend. But if it made Stiles feel better even just a little bit he would hold his tongue and say nothing.

**It’s a long drive back to Beacon Hills. They trade out The Rolling Stones for The Who, and then U2 as they’re driving back into town.**

**As Derek pulls back into the loft parking lot, he glances at the clock. It’s past ten. “Do you want to . . . I just got a box set of Kurosawa movies.”**

The Sheriff, Scott, Melissa and surprisingly Lydia all focused in on Derek who felt the tension in the room sly rocket. They had already established that a guy inviting someone up to his place was an invitation to bed and with them having just gone on a date they needed to make sure Derek realized just how much of a mistake it would be to mess with Stiles right now.

Derek was a little insulted at how little the thought of him. He and Kate had been in the same situation and he knew that he could never put Stiles through what he had gone through. It would have been a long time before he and Stiles had sex even without the rape. He met their gazes coolly. He could understand them feeling protective but there was no need. He would never hurt Stiles. Even if he wanted to he didn’t think he was even capable of doing anything that might hurt the boy he loved.

**“Oh, _hell_ yes,” Stiles says happily. “I knew you had to be spending your money on something.” **

**Derek almost cracks another smile at that. “Seven Samurai?”**

**“Throne of Blood,” Stiles says. “ _Then_ Seven Samurai. And then Yojimbo. But we’ll need popcorn. Absolutely.” **

**“Sure.” Derek pulls back out of the parking lot and heads for the grocery store on the corner.**

Lydia, who was not a gossip queen for nothing, said, “That’s…not a good idea.” When everyone turned to look at her questioningly she said with a grimace, “You’ll see.”

**While he’s driving, Stiles takes out his phone and calls his father. “Hey, Dad? I think I’m gonna stay the night at Derek’s. We’ve got some movies to watch and stuff.”**

The Sheriff and Derek both grimace at the reminder that Stiles needs to ask for permission to stay out at night. From where he is hiding Stiles frowns thoughtfully at how well his father seems to be taking the fact that apparently he and Derek might actually be dating. He knew his dad was awesome!

**“Everything okay?” his father asks.**

**“Yeah, fine. Really.”**

**“Okay. I’m working night shift anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”**

**“See you,” Stiles says, and tucks his phone away. By now, Derek has parked, and they head into the grocery store. It’s late, but there are still plenty of people there. Stiles realizes he has no idea what day it is. Probably a Friday or a Saturday, given the crowded store and the fact that his father is working night shift.**

**He and Derek quibble over snacks for a few minutes before going up to the front with their purchases. The cashier is classmate of Stiles’. She looks between Stiles and Derek before offering them a wide smirk. “Date night?” she asks innocently. Derek just gives her one of his trademark creeper stares. This doesn’t faze her. She scans their soda, popcorn, and chips. “Hey, Stiles, leave some for the rest of us, huh?”**

_’Shit!’_ was the first thought to go through Stiles’ head. So this was what Lydia was talking about. He had a _very_ bad feeling about this.

**Derek’s frowning a little as he swipes his card to pay. The cashier glances at the screen to catch his name. As Stiles grabs the bags and tries to flee, she calls out after them, “Be gentle with him, Derek!”**

Derek snarled, low in his throat. How _dare_ they make a joke about what had happened. It wasn’t even as though they thought it was just a picture of Stiles having sex. They all knew it was rape. How the hell did any of them think it was funny to laugh about it maybe happening again,

**“Fuck,” Stiles mutters as he gets back into the Camaro.**

**“What was all that about?” Derek asks.**

**“Nothing, just, you know,” Stiles says. “Apparently my lack of game is something of a joke with my classmates. No big.” He sees that Derek is frowning a little, and he doesn’t want to see that expression return to his face, nor does he want to discuss what’s going on, so he hastily turns the subject back to Kurosawa’s movies. Derek lets it go without further commentary.**

Derek didn’t like the fact that Stiles was lying to him but god knows he could understand.

**~ ~ ~ ~**

**“Hey, you,” Sheriff Stilinski says, glancing up as Stiles comes through the door, yawning widely. “Have a good time?”**

**“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Actually.”**

**“You awake enough for some news?”**

**Stiles frowns a little, sees the serious expression on his father’s face, and steels his nerves. “Oh, geez, I won’t sleep _now,_ ” he says. “But actually I am pretty awake. Just let me get some coffee.” He doesn’t want to mention that he actually got nearly eight full hours of sleep. Somewhere in the middle of Yojimbo, probably around four AM, he had conked out, sprawled across Derek’s lap. He hadn’t woken until the sunlight had hit the windows of the loft and shined into his eyes. Derek had still been asleep, too, slumped over the arm of the sofa, relaxed and _comfortable_ with Stiles draped across him like a rug. **

Derek and Stiles both blushed a little at all these people, especially people like Chris Argent and Danny, hearing private moments that they had no business hearing about. It was _embarrassing_ for Christ’s sake. His father was listening. Stiles dearly hoped that nothing…graphic happened in the book. He would never be able to look his father in the eye again.

**Stiles doesn’t want to talk about that because he doesn’t know how he feels about it, how he feels about _any_ of this stuff with Derek. It’s just too complicated, and he doesn’t want to think about the fact that he finally got a decent night’s sleep, without bad dreams or panic attacks in the middle of the night. He and Derek are friends, and that’s not something he wants to risk screwing up right now. He doesn’t think he could handle it if he lost that. **

Although he would always wonder what might have been Derek could do friendship. He remembers how much he would have liked a friend after everything with Kate. He would be whatever Stiles needed him to be.

**So he just gets himself some coffee and then heads back out to where his father has some papers spread across the kitchen table. “What’s up?”**

**Sheriff Stilinski pushes a thin folder across the table. “Gerard Argent is alive.”**

**It’s not exactly a surprise, given all the givens, but it still hits Stiles like a punch in the gut. “Fuck,” he says, and for once his father doesn’t say anything about his language. “I didn’t even know you were looking for him.”**

**“It seemed like it was worth looking into,” his father says. “His body was never found. It was possible that was because Chris Argent had killed him and disposed of the body, but to me it seemed more likely that he had survived. All I had to do was look into the Argent’s financials to find him.”**

Chris felt like he should object to the blatant invasion of privacy but couldn’t bring himself to. Faced with the loss of his wife, maybe losing his daughter to his father’s fanatical ways he just could not bring up the disgust and hatred he had been raised to feel towards werewolves and the humans who helped them.

**“How’d you get a warrant for that?” Stiles asks, taking a drink of his coffee and sitting down across from his father.**

**“Simple. I filed a missing persons report for him,” the sheriff says. “Anyway, he’s checked into an assisted living facility on the north side of town under a fake name. Not that I know what to do about it. We don’t actually have any evidence that he committed a crime.”**

“Can you do that?” Isaac wondered aloud. “I thought only family could file a missing person’s report.”

The Sheriff smiled at Isaac who tentatively returned it, somewhat expecting a hit or shout. “Anyone can file the report. It’s just usually a family member because they are usually the first one’s to notice. Coworkers can assume that the person is sick or just playing hooky. Friends don’t usually live in each other’s pockets and it can be weeks before the realize they haven’t heard from someone in a while.”

“That makes sense,” Isaac said hesitantly. It was unusual for him to question an adult’s actions and get a explanation rather than an angry outburst. He rather liked it.

**Stiles thinks back. Gerard had done so many terrible things, it seems like there has to be something that they can pin on him, but he can’t think of anything. All the Argent lackeys seem to be gone, there’s nobody that they could try to bribe or compel to testify against him. In the matter of his assault on Stiles, it would be his word against Gerard’s. There was no physical evidence in either that incident or the fact that he had murdered Matt Daehler. And there was no conceivable motive in anything he had done unless one took the supernatural events into account.**

**He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah, let me think about it,” he says. “I mean, I see the problem. I just don’t feel right letting him get away with all this shit. I guess if he’s using Argent family money, Chris must know, right?”**

**His father gives a little nod. “Chris is listed as his emergency contact, for that matter. He signed the paperwork when Gerard was admitted.”**

**Stiles’ jaw tightens. He supposes he can’t blame Chris for not killing his father in retaliation, but the man had tried to kill all of them, including Allison. He feels like there should have been a step between ‘murder’ and ‘checking him into a cushy assisted living facility’, like ‘leaving him to die of black goo exsanguination in the forest’ that Chris should have taken. He leafs through the medical reports in the file and is somewhat mollified to see that Gerard is still having a lot of trouble with said black goo, and rates his pain as at least a seven or eight every day. “Better than nothing,” he mutters.**

**“Well,” Sheriff Stilinski says, with a glint in his eye, “I have half a mind to go down there and have a little chat with him about what he did to you that night.”**

**Stiles grimaces. “Can I ask you not to do that? It might benefit us later for him not to know that we realize he’s alive. I don’t know, but . . . at least until this whole thing with Erica and Boyd is taken care of and we see how everything shakes out.”**

**His father narrows his eyes, but then sighs and says, “Okay. Until then, at least. But one way or another, we’re going to have to deal with him. I don’t like him being here.”**

**“Trust me, on that score you’re not alone,” Stiles says.**

**He tosses and turns that night, wondering how to explain to Derek that Gerard is still alive and in Beacon Hills. He thinks about just not mentioning it at all, but he knows that he has to. Derek’s trust has been broken so many times in his life. Stiles doesn’t want to lose the trust he’s gained, and that means that he can’t lie, not even a lie of omission.**

It was such a relief to know that finally someone was concerned about hurting Derek and making sure his trust was not undeserved. Scott, Boyd and Erica had all but shit on Derek’s feelings and attempts to make a proper pack. It was wonderful to know that Stiles could be relied on not to do that.

**So he just opens up with it the next day, without trying to cushion it. “So, my dad found Gerard,” he says. Derek glances at him and then just gives him a little nod, and Stiles realizes that this comes as no surprise to him. Derek had always assumed that Gerard was still alive, because nothing ever goes right for him. Of _course_ Gerard is still alive. “He’s in an old folks home. I talked Dad into leaving him where he is for the moment. We might be able to use him as some sort of bargaining chip with Deucalion and the alphas.” **

It hurt Stiles a little to know how accustomed Derek was to everything around him going to shit. That he was at the point where he just assumed things were working against him even when nobody else had a reason to believe such a thing to be happening. Of course he wasn’t lucky enough for the racist hunter to be dead, that might just be something good in his life, can’t have that.

**“Okay,” Derek says.**

**“He’s in lots of pain,” Stiles says brightly, and sees Derek’s lips twitch into what passes for a smile from the werewolf. “Complains about it every day. What a baby.”**

**Derek shakes his head a little. “It’ll have to do,” he says.**

**“Yeah, that’s basically what I said,” Stiles says. “Great minds think alike.”**

**Derek arches an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” he says. Stiles thinks about his reply for a few minutes, then, with all due respect, blows a raspberry at him.**

**“Oh, hey, so, I was thinking,” he adds, since they seem to be done discussing Gerard for the moment, “we should really do a protection spell around the loft. I mean, I know you’re not exactly in the phone book, but I don’t think it would be hard for Deucalion to figure out where you live, you know? And I’m not a huge fan of the idea of him showing up on the doorstep.”**

Awesome! Stiles leaned forwards. It sounded like he was going to do some more magic. How cool was that? Magic was something he could totally do.

**Derek’s jaw sets in an angry expression, but then he nods. “What do you have in mind?”**

**“I was reading in, uh . . .” Stiles fumbles around in his backpack and pulls out a gigantic tome that he had liberated from Deaton’s office. He’s pretty sure that Deaton knows he had stolen a bunch of his stuff, and finds it interesting that the veterinarian hadn’t said anything about it. “Uh, here it is. The five-point protection spell. We need some white candles, some sage, some salt . . . and a hair from anyone you want to be able to come and go freely. So that’s you, me, Isaac . . . Lydia and my dad okay?”**

**“Yeah.” Derek nods. “And Peter.”**

**Stiles shuts the book. “If you want,” he says, careful to keep his voice neutral.**

**Derek looks away. “If Peter wanted to kill me to take the alpha power back, he would have done it already.”**

**Since this is probably true, Stiles nods. “I’ll go get what we need. I talked to my dad and Lydia about it already. You want to get a hair from Isaac and Peter and then we can get it done.”**

**“Okay.” Derek studies him for a moment. “You’re getting good at this magic stuff.”**

**Stiles shrugs. “I guess? But it’s not like it’s hard. I mean, you just follow the directions. It’s all ritual and shit.” He sees the way Derek is looking at him. “What?”**

**“Nothing, I just . . .” Derek scowls at him. “You say that like it’s not a big deal. It _is_ a big deal. You shouldn’t just disregard it and put yourself down so easily.” **

The Sheriff snorted and several people looked at him, scandalized. “Good luck getting him to take a compliment,” he said, amused.

Stiles pouted. He wasn’t _that_ bad at taking compliments.

**Stiles stares at him with his jaw ajar for a moment, then looks away and rubs a hand over his hair. “Wow, uh, okay. Yeah. I mean, I guess it does say something about my life that I’m at the point where I’m just like ‘oh, magic, no biggie’. I’ll just . . . go get some white candles now and we can stop talking about this before I die of embarrassment, okay?”**

**Derek nods, looking just as embarrassed, his cheeks flushed faintly pink. “Okay.”**

 

**~ ~ ~ ~**

 

**Two days later, Derek is watching in some confusion as Lydia is showing Stiles a bunch of complicated equations she’s been doing. The math has something to do with the various sightings of Deucalion and where it’s more probable that he’s living. The word ‘algorithm’ has been used more than once, and it’s clear to Stiles that Derek has no idea what Lydia is talking about. To be fair, he only understands about a third of it himself.**

**“Did you go to college?” he asks Derek curiously.**

**“No,” Derek says. “I never even finished high school.” He gives a little shrug and adds, “I have my GED, but that’s it.”**

**Peter says something uncomplimentary underneath his breath. Stiles and Lydia don’t catch it, but Derek gives his uncle an annoyed look.**

**“Look, I’m pretty sure that no amount of school is gonna help any of us understand what the hell Lydia is talking about,” Isaac says.**

**“I understand it,” Peter says.**

**“Would you like to do the equations?” Lydia asks, smiling brightly at him.**

**“Of course not. I’m enjoying watching you work.”**

**Lydia gives him a somewhat narrow eyed look before turning back to what she’s doing. Stiles finds himself wondering if Peter’s next cup of coffee is going to be spiked with wolfsbane. He certainly wouldn’t argue if it was.**

**Another ten minutes of amiable bickering passes before Derek’s phone chimes. He finishes the instructions he’s giving to Isaac before fishing it out to see who’s texting him. A faint frown crosses his face. “Stiles, why the hell is someone sending me a picture of you naked?”**

Everyone in the room froze. They could all feel the sudden shift in the story. Something major was about to happen. The all felt a little sad at Stiles’ only comfort being snatched away in such a cruel way. No one was brave enough to comment and so Allison reluctantly started back up.

**Stiles fumbles the book he’s holding and it hits the floor with a thud. Everyone looks over at him, even Peter. Then Derek’s phone chimes again.**

**Stiles doesn’t wait to see what the second photograph is going to be. From Derek’s reaction, the first must have been one of the milder ones, after everything had been finished. He doubts that that’s all they plan on sending. So he bolts. Just grabs his bag and runs. He hears Derek make a startled noise behind him, but he doesn’t look back.**

**He’s down the stairs and in his car before a full minute has passed, on the road another twelve seconds later. He just drives, not allowing himself to think about what just happened, not allowing himself to feel anything about it. The main drag takes him out of town.**

The Sheriff felt alarmed knowing that Stiles was driving in such a compromised state. Driving while upset was every bit as dangerous as driving while drunk. And he was worried about the fact that Stiles appeared to be running away. He would not lose his son over some idiot teenagers.

**Like the night he had first told his father what happened, he drives without purpose or direction. He just wants to get _away._ As soon as he stops, he’s going to start thinking about the fact that there’s no safe place left for him. Nobody he’ll be able to talk to without the elephant in the room. No way that things will ever be the same for him and Derek, for them to be able to enjoy that easy companionship without complications. He doesn’t know how Derek will react to the story, whether the next time he sees Derek, whether the werewolf will look at him with pity or disgust. He doesn’t want to know. **

Stiles bangs his head against the wall in frustration. Why couldn’t people just leave him and is maybe, someday boyfriend alone?! Doesn’t he deserve even a little peace?

**He has to pull over because he can’t breathe. His hands are shaking so badly that he can barely hold the wheel. He huddles in the driver’s seat, hyperventilating, pushing his hands through his hair and tugging on it in an effort to calm himself down.**

**Gradually, the worst of it passes. But this time he can’t bring himself to go back. The thought of it makes him want to be sick to his stomach. Maybe someday he’ll be able to face up to it, but not now.**

**After what feels like a long time, he takes out his phone and calls his father. The call goes to voice mail, as it usually does when his father’s working. This brings him nothing but relief.**

**“Hey, uh . . . hey Dad,” he says to the mailbox. “I have to . . . I have to get out of here for a bit. Just a few days. I can’t . . . can’t take the way people look at me anymore. I just . . . I have to go somewhere that people don’t know me. I’m sorry if I . . . I just can’t for a little while. I need a break. I’ll be okay. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. I just . . . I’m just sorry. I’ll call you later. Love you.”**

Having that promise made the Sheriff feel marginally better. He was also glad that Stiles had thought to call him before he had a chance to drive himself crazing wondering what had happened to his son. It did not quite make up for the sadness or anger that Stiles had literally been driven out of him home by what had happened. 

**He hangs up and pulls the car back onto the road. He has no missed messages, which somewhat surprises him, but he guesses that the others just didn’t know what to say.**

**It takes him a while, but eventually, he pulls back onto the road. He remembers the peace and safety he felt in the anonymity of the city, and heads south. It’s not a short drive, and the sun is setting by the time he gets there. He pulls into the parking lot of a small motel on the outskirts of the city. The clerk gives his fake ID a disinterested glance and gives him a room key.**

**Once he’s inside, he checks his phone and sees that he has a message from his father. With some apprehension, he goes into his voice mail.**

**“Hey, kid,” his father says. He sounds a little tired, voice rougher than usual. “Got your message. I just wanted to say . . . you do what you need to do, in order to be okay. But be safe, okay? I’ve put some money in your account. Not a lot, but it’s what we can spare right now. Don’t sleep in your car. Take care of yourself. And just . . . come home when you’re ready. Call me if you need anything. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now, so I’ll just let your calls go to voice mail unless you text and tell me to pick up.” There’s a long pause. “I love you, kiddo. I’ll see you soon.”**

**Stiles puts the phone down, then flops onto the bed facedown. The first sob takes him off guard, clawing its way out of his throat with force he couldn’t anticipate. He finds himself curled up around the pillow, crying until his chest hurts and his head aches.**

**The worst of it eventually passes. He stares at the wall and takes slow breaths, trying to put himself back together. He realizes that he’s exhausted. He doesn’t even bother to change, but just kicks off his shoes, rolls over, and turns out the light.**

“That’s it,” Allison says, relieved to be done with the horrible chapter. “Who’s next?” She doesn’t ask who wants to read. Nobody would want whatever was sure to follow this depressing chapter.

Isaac raises his hand slowly, regretting it when suddenly everyone’s attention is on him. “I’ll go,” he said, taking the book.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter so much, I was really scared about not doing it justice but I did my best

**Stiles sleeps late, and wakes up feeling sluggish and disoriented. He staggers through the dim hotel room to use the bathroom. He’s starving, but the idea of leaving the hotel room is terrifying. Only the fact that his father had told him to take care of himself gets him up and moving.**

The Sheriff sighed. It was nice to know that Stiles was listening to him but it was also hard to know that without his specific instructions to take care of himself Stiles wouldn’t have bothered.

**Since he had left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the few things he had in his bag – his laptop, fortunately, a few books, a pack of gum, his Adderall, and some loose change – he starts at a Wal-Mart. He buys himself a pack of T-shirts, boxers, and socks. He doesn’t want to waste money on a second pair of jeans. He’ll just have to wear these until they get so dirty that they can walk on their own.**

**He adds a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a hairbrush. He can go without shaving for a while. Then he grabs a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew, a couple boxes of crackers, a jar of peanut butter, and a bag of oranges. The Wal-Mart has a Subway at the front, so he gets himself a turkey foot long and brings it back to the hotel. That’s quite enough for one day.**

The Sheriff, Melissa and Chris Argent shared a look of mutual exasperation. The metabolism of teenagers. That was hardly what any of them would have considered provisions.

**He calls his father. As promised, it goes to voice mail, so he says, “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know, I’m in San Francisco. It’s nice here. I can walk around without people staring at me. I have, uh, I have a hotel room and some food, I’m okay. Just gonna hole up and marathon Red Dwarf on Netflix. Thanks for, uh, thanks for everything. Love you.”**

**After hanging up, he sees that he has a missed call from Derek and a voice mail. He quails inwardly, and thinks about listening to it later, when he might be up to it, but he knows that he’ll just go insane wondering about the contents. So he puts it on.**

Derek surreptitiously crossed his fingers. He hoped that whatever this message was helped Stiles. He hated that Stiles was running from him, scared of his reaction. He really hoped that he wouldn’t let Stiles down.

**Like his father, Derek sounds a little tired, and he’s not his usual terse self. “Hey, uh . . . Lydia told me what happened. Not details or anything, I mean, she didn’t tell me who, she just . . . gave me the basics. I just wanted to let you know . . . I let her delete the other texts without opening them. So I only saw the one picture. I mean. Not that it probably matters to you. I just . . . please let me know you’re okay, if you can. We don’t have to talk about it, I know you won’t want to and I can respect that, I just want to know that you’re all right.”**

Derek sighed in relief. It might not have been the stuff of legends but it would do. He was a little annoyed that Lydia apparently hadn’t told him about Jackson. He supposed that whatever happened to Jackson needed to be Stiles’ choice but he couldn’t even believe how badly he wanted to tear that little bastard apart.

**He hangs up without saying goodbye. Stiles stares at the phone for a long minute, chewing on his lower lip. He doesn’t want to talk, but he understands that Derek just wants to know that he’s breathing. He’s pack now, and he thinks that comes with instincts and impulses that he can’t fully understand. And Derek is his friend. He doesn’t want to leave him worrying.**

**So he sends a quick text that reads, ‘am ok. Just needed a break. Chillin in the city. Will come back when I’m ready.’**

**He doesn’t really want to know if he’s going to get an answer to that, so he sits down with his sandwich and takes out his laptop, resolving not to leave the hotel room the entire day if he doesn’t have to.**

**And he doesn’t have to. He takes his Adderall and watches TV and surfs the internet and determinedly doesn’t think about any of his problems. When he gets hungry again, he orders pizza. Then he takes a shower and goes to bed. It was a day that was wholly relaxing and yet somehow damnably depressing.**

**He sleeps restlessly, and upon waking the next morning, he knows he can’t spend the entire day inside again. He’ll lose his mind. The weather is nice, sunny and in the eighties. He pulls on one of his new T-shirts and his dirty jeans and heads for the beach. It’s crowded, of course, being the middle of the summer, but he doesn’t let that bother him. He just starts at one end and keeps walking.**

It was nice to hear that Stiles wasn’t wallowing in misery. San Francisco actually sounded good for him.

**There’s hardly anybody in the water, which surprises him, but when he dips his toes in, he finds it’s very cold. There are signs up in places about the dangers of undertow, so he stays in the shallows. Stiles walks through the waves as if he’s in a dream, and nobody looks twice at him. When the beach is broken up by rocks, he just climbs over them and keeps walking. He does it for hours, barely aware of what he’s doing.**

**Finally, his hunger drives him inwards. He winds up walking the streets of San Francisco in his sopping jeans and the cheap flip flops he bought at Wal-Mart. The smell of spices draws him towards a taco stand, and he gets something to eat. Then he starts walking again.**

**It’s not like he’s invisible. He’s actually stopped several times. A nice Japanese couple ask him for directions which he can’t provide. A hobo who looks like she’s on the crazier side of normal asks him for change. He gives her his last taco, which seems acceptable to her. Someone who bumps into him gives him a dirty look and asks why he’s soaking wet.**

**“Free country, isn’t it?” Stiles responds, and the guy flips him off.**

Scott laughs softly. Stiles was such a troll. It was nice to hear again after so much misery and pain.

**The ability to just walk the streets and be a nobody is incredible. He feels an enormous weight rolling off his chest. He may never be able to do it in Beacon Hills anymore, but there are still places where he can be himself.**

**He eats dinner at a noodle bar and then goes to see a movie. By the time it’s over, he’s stiff and sore from all the walking. It doesn’t bother him. He stops at a pharmacy and buys some ibuprofen and goes back to the hotel. He sees that he has two messages, one from his father and one from Derek, and pulls them up with less anxiety than earlier.**

**His father’s is short and sweet. “Just checking in. Give me a call to let me know how you’re doing.”**

**The one from Derek is a little longer. “Hey. Thought I would give you an update. Lydia’s math stuff didn’t work out. She says she doesn’t have a big enough data pool. Thought you would want to know. Isaac’s staking out some of the more likely areas anyway. Alphas can hide their scent, so unless he sees something, it won’t matter, but he wanted to give it a try.**

**“I talked to your Dad. He told me you were in San Francisco. Laura and I actually lived there for a year while we were moving around a lot. I thought I would give you some suggestions. There’s a lot of cool stuff to do in the city, even if you don’t have a lot of money. You should hit the library. I know that sounds boring, but when you’re from a little town like Beacon Hills, you probably don’t have any idea how awesome a big city library can be. I could spend days there. I bet you could too.**

Stiles was really surprised. It might have been a little rude to think but Derek had never really struck him as an intellectual. He just could not see scruffy, muscly Derek Hale in a library.

**“In Golden Gate Park, there’s a lot of flower gardens and the arboretum and everything. A lot of the museums have a free day each month, there’s a schedule online and stuff. Be careful if you swim. The undertow is really strong on a lot of the San Francisco beaches. But, uh, let me know if you need money, okay? You know that I have plenty.**

**“That, uh, that’s it, I guess. I’ll see you soon, I hope.”**

**He sleeps better that night, fewer nightmares.**

Derek and the Sheriff felt a little less tense at this. It meant a lot to the both of them that just a single message a day, proof that they cared, was enough to help Stiles heal, even just a little. It was humbling to know they could give him the peace he needed in order to sleep.

**The next day, he goes to the library. It’s everything Derek said it was, both gorgeous architecturally and jammed full of more books than he could read in a lifetime. He spends the entire day there, just walking through the stacks or curled up with some of the more interesting looking books.**

**Nearly a full week passes like that. During the day, he either walks the streets or settles down in one of the parks or libraries to read. Sometimes he goes to a museum, but he tries to use his money sparingly. He doesn’t want to have to ask Derek for any, even though he knows that the werewolf would be willing to provide it.**

**Derek leaves him a message every night, updating him on the search for Erica and Boyd even though there’s never any progress, and sometimes suggesting some activity or restaurant. Stiles texts him a few times. Short messages that don’t invite conversation like, ‘went to the library today. It was nice.’ Derek never replies to those texts, seeming to sense that Stiles doesn’t want him to.**

**A curious thing starts to happen. Every day, he feels a little better, a little lighter, less prone to the panic attacks or the miasma of depression that had been consuming his life. But at the same time, every day, the thought of going back to Beacon Hills gets a little worse. The idea of going back to the life he had there, where everyone stared at him or giggled behind his back, becomes unbearable.**

**Not that there’s really anything else he can do. He’s going to be out of money soon, and out of Adderall sooner. He can’t just run away from things forever.**   
**But on an impulse, he calls his father. He gets the voicemail, and remembers that he has to text him and tell him to pick up, so he does. As soon as he has the return text, he calls again. “Hey,” his father says. “How are you doing?”**

**“I’m okay,” Stiles says. “Hey, uh . . . can I ask you something?”**

**“Sure,” his father says. “Anything.”**

**“Would you . . . move out of Beacon Hills? If I needed you to?”**

Everyone in the room looked _gutted_. Stiles couldn’t just leave them! But even as they thought this they knew they wouldn’t try to stop him. Not when he sounded happier and healthier than he had the entire reading.

Scott was taking it the hardest. It hadn’t escaped his notice that he hadn’t been present in the story in a while or that he was not one of the people leaving message for Stiles to help him feel better. He was completely useless and he hated it.

**There isn’t even the slightest pause. “Of course. Sure. If that’s what you needed.”**

**“Okay,” Stiles says. “Thanks. I just wanted to know.”**

**Now there’s a pause. Somewhat more hesitantly, his father says, “Should I start making that sort of arrangement?”**

**“I . . . I don’t know, Dad. Give me a few days to think about it.”**

**“Okay,” his father says.**

**“I gotta go,” Stiles says, and hangs up without another word. He stares out at the ocean for a while. He doesn’t want to leave his friends. He knows that they need him . . . or do they? Has he ever _really_ helped things for Scott or Derek? It seems like all he ever does is get kidnapped and/or roughed up. He’s been trying all summer to help find Erica and Boyd, and they’ve still got exactly nothing to show for it. **

Derek and Scott were appalled. The idea of being able to live without Stiles was simply ridiculous. And how could he even think that he hadn’t been vitally necessary? Stiles almost single handedly solved most of their problems. Hell, Scott hadn’t even realized he was a werewolf despite noticing his better hearing, smelling, sudden lack of asthma and the fact that he was suddenly good at a sport he honestly sucked at before!

**He walks around the beach for a little while, lost in thought even though he’s fairly sure he would be happier not thinking.**

**Much later that night, he sits down with his phone and sees that he has his usual message from Derek, so he pulls it up.**

**“Hey.” Derek sounds tired, his voice softer than usual. “I miss you. I don’t know if you know that. I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I just wanted you to know that . . . I miss you. But I’ll understand if you never come back. I will.**

**“When I was fifteen,” Derek continues,**

_Shit!_ was Derek’s first thought, panic seizing his heart. He wasn’t surprised he was choosing to share his secret with Stiles but he hated the idea that it was going to be shared with this group of people he didn’t trust and who did not care about him. Chris was Kate’s brother, Scott blamed him for everything that seemed to go wrong and Erica and Boyd ditched him just because things got difficult. He would be hard pressed to find a group of people he would like to hear his story less.

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He may not be able to hide from this but he would not give any of them the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart. He would remain stoic until such time he could get away and then he would fall apart. If there was even the smallest chance that knowing this might help Stiles ho would just have to make peace with it.

**“I had this super hot substitute teacher in school. The lady who taught history was on maternity leave. History wasn’t really my best subject – actually to be fair, school work in general wasn’t my best subject – and I wound up staying after to get some extra tutoring. And Katie – the teacher – she was just . . . everything a fifteen year old boy dreams about. She would sit next to me at the table and her leg would touch mine and it’s amazing that I stayed conscious, let alone learned anything about history.**

The Sheriff and Chris were struck by this intense feeling of dread. Given the context they could both tell where this was going. And Chris just could not get past the terrible suspicion of who ‘Katie’ really was. 

**“I didn’t have a lot of friends back then. It’s hard to make friends when you can’t have them over at your house, can’t explain why you’re so different from everyone else. I thought Katie hung the moon. I was just so . . . naïve back then. And every now and then she would drop this comment like she ‘didn’t know why she was attracted to a kid like me’ or she thought all her friends would make fun of her. I became desperate to impress her. I did anything she asked me to, even though . . . sometimes it would make me uncomfortable. Like . . . she never wanted me to talk, when we were in bed together. She said it ‘ruined’ it.**

The Sheriff grimaced. This was sounding like a classic case of a child being groomed by an abuser. 

**“Anyway . . . by the time three months went by, I was pretty much wrapped around her little finger. Now that I’m older, I can look back on it and see all the ways she manipulated me, but I was just a stupid kid back then. I didn’t get it. And I wouldn’t have wanted it. If someone had tried to sit me down and explain what she was doing to me, I would have called them a liar. Because I was so in love with her. I would have done anything she wanted.**

**“It didn’t seem like a big deal when she asked me to leave some of my clothes at her place. Worn ones. She said she liked the way I smelled. And she did . . . she put them on, dressed herself in my scent, and set the house on fire. Because Katie was Kate Argent.” Derek’s voice chokes a little. “And she never would have been able to hurt my family if I hadn’t helped her.”**

All of the teenagers were absolutely thunderstruck. Allison was horrified that her aunt had done something so horrific. It was one thing to know she was crazy enough to kill an entire family, but somehow knowing what she did to Derek made everything seem so much worse.

All of the betas were looking at Derek in shock. They just could not imagine how they would feel knowing that they had, however unintentionally, assisted the murder of their entire family. Erica and Isaac were ashamed, they were so focused on their own pain, humiliation, and fears that they completely ignored the fact that Derek had any problems. They felt like the biggest hypocrites in the world for thinking they had it hard.

Scott felt like he had just run face first into a brick wall. He had never liked Derek and he had always sympathized with the Argent family. His introduction into werewolves had been anything but smooth. Peter attacked him and Derek had really exacerbated the situation by acting like an ass. With everything Peter had done, all the people he killed, Scott understood why hunters needed to exist. He really didn’t blame them for attacking him and he knew, academically, that Kate was bad, but he never understood until that moment.

As bad as it sounded, Derek’s family came pre-murdered. Scott didn’t know Derek’s mother, father, sisters, so it didn’t really affect him that they were dead. He didn’t know what Derek had been like before the fire, he didn’t know how the loss changed him. But hearing how Kate and clearly taken advantage of him, after hearing about the same thing happening to someone he did care about, someone he knew before he had been hurt, he, for the very first time, realized how much of a monster Kate Argent really was. She was a criminal, a rapist, and a murderer. And was it any wonder that Derek could be a bit of an ass when his rapist murdered his entire family and he had unwittingly been made to help?  
Chris felt like someone had punched him right in the gut. It was hard for him to hear how much of a monster his sister really was. He had known on some level for some time what she was capable of, or at least he thought he had. He had never imagined she would go this far. He had seen her utter glee in tormenting Derek after coming back into town. He had seen her enjoyment in the fact that she was torturing him and he could do nothing to stop her.

Stiles felt off-kilter. He had suspected that there might have been something between Derek and Kate but it had only ever been a vague suspicion. He had never imagined this. He felt so bad for Derek. Stiles knew full well how hard it was not being able to talk to anyone about what had happened and he could only imagine the guilt Derek must feel every day. At the same time Stiles felt better than he had in a very long time. Knowing that Derek could face knowing that someone had taken advantage of him and used him to murder his family and still be so strong gave Stiles the courage to face his own situation. If Derek could be that strong than so could Stiles.

Slowly, Stiles crawled out from his little hide-a-way. He completely ignored the gawking looks from everyone and sat on the ground next to Derek, silently offering him his gratitude and support.

The Sheriff and Scott wanted desperately to lunge forward and give Stiles a hug but he seemed ready to bolt at the slightest movement. Everyone collectively agreed to pretend as if they did not see him and continue on as if he were still hiding.

Derek reached down and squeezed Stiles’ hand for just the barest of moments; thanking him for leaving his sanctuary to offer his support. This had been hard for him and he was grateful that Stiles was taking that seriously.

**There’s a long silence in the message. Stiles just sits on the bed in his hotel room, stunned, almost unable to comprehend it.**

**“I’ve never told anyone that,” Derek finally says. “Not even Laura. I just . . . hated myself so much, blamed myself for everything. Looking back on it, it’s so easy to see the way she played me that I always felt like I should have been able to see it at the time. But I didn’t. She just crawled right into my head and maybe . . . maybe she never left.**

**“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now,” Derek continues. “But I know . . . what it’s like to face each morning with dread, to not want to look anyone in the eye, to just want to hide from the world until everyone goes away. And I thought that maybe . . . maybe telling you this would help you . . . be okay with seeing me again. Because I won’t look at you differently. I won’t. What happened to you wasn’t your fault, and it doesn’t make you weak, or pathetic, or guilty.**

Stiles quickly stifled the sob that wanted to come bursting out and everyone was kind enough to pretend they didn’t hear it. It was clearly killing the Sheriff not to wrap Stiles up in his arms and promise him it would be okay but he knew that that was not what Stiles needed right now so he would just have to control himself for now.

“I want to see you again. When you’re ready. Whether that’s tomorrow or in a year or ten years. I’ll wait until you can face the world again. Because I know how hard it can be.” 

**There’s a long silence, and then Derek just says, “Bye,” and the message ends.**

**Stiles flops over and curls up around the phone, holding it to his chest like it’s something precious. He can’t imagine what it’s been like for Derek, living with that weight on his shoulders for so many years. It’s amazing that he hasn’t folded underneath it. But Derek is strong, in his own way. Even if living was just his way of continuing to punish himself, he had still done it. Still faced every day and kept going with willpower that seems insane to Stiles.**

**“Thank you,” he whispers to his phone. Now he thinks he can go home. It won’t be easy, and he’ll have to take a few days to think about his re-entry strategy and what he wants to say to people. But he can do it. He knows that now. It doesn’t matter what the assholes in Beacon Hills think of him, as long as he still has his friends.**

**He sends his father a quick text that reads, ‘Will be home in a few days. You don’t need to start packing. I’ll be okay.’**

**He eats leftover Chinese food, watches TV, and goes to sleep.**

Isaac set the book down gently. It seemed wrong somehow to speak but he still asked, “Who wants to read next?”

Chris said, “I will.”

Everyone looked at him, startled, “But you already read,” Danny said, confused.

“I know. But given all of the twists this thing seems to have I don’t think it’s right to force Stiles or his dad to read. They can if they want to but I think they are going through enough without asking them to be the ones violating someone’s privacy and sharing things that some of us really have no business knowing.” He somehow sounded both angry and tired.

Derek was grateful. He didn’t really see how it could get worse for him but he couldn’t imagine having to read this chapter aloud. And he really didn’t want to read about Stiles having panic attacks or being depressed. It meant a lot to him that Chris would have that kind of forethought.

No one was all that inclined to argue so Chris pulled the book towards him and started to read.


End file.
